


I'll Fall in Love Anyway

by dandelionweekes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abusive Relationships, M/M, Mental Illness, Recovery, Sad Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, University Student Yamaguchi, a little sad but they're both recovering, but i promise its cute, fluff i promise, i don't know what other tags to do, i usually only write happy endings, inept tsukishima, minor asanoya, minor daisuga, noya and tanaka are chaotic but love yamaguchi, okay that's all, pls read, single dad tsukishima, some angst but I promise with all my heart it has a happy ending, tsukishima kei suffers from derealization, tsukishima works in a museum, tw for abuse, um, yamaguchi loves children uwu, yamaguchi loves his family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionweekes/pseuds/dandelionweekes
Summary: After tripping his way out of an abusive relationship, Tsukishima Kei is left with a multitude of scars and a baby that he isn't quite sure what to do with. The only saving grace in the entire situation seems to be Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima's freckled neighbor who has no reservations when it comes to picking up where Tsukishima's parenting leaves off.-I know that description sucks but. Y'all, I promise this is pretty damn cute. Major TW for mental illness and abusive relationships. The boyz are recovering though, I promise. I won't needlessly hurt them. Okay that's all.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 104





	1. Prologue I - Drag me Down, I Have no Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to what was previously titled The Baby AU. That wouldn't really do, though, so... 
> 
> Please read the tags and TWs before proceeding. Um.............yeah. I'm planning to post new chapters weekly but I also have a lot of other things going on in my life so. hehe. Please enjoy, and I promise, fluff will ensue. :)

Tsukishima looked down into her eyes, a glare slipping easily onto his face. His lips twisted into an ugly grimace as his back hit the solid plane of the wall of his apartment. His hands were down at his sides, curling into fists so tight that he felt the blunt edges of his nails pressing into the skin on his palms. Swallowing, Tsukishima egged her on with a daring look, but fear was brimming within him, making him feel shaken and faint. 

“You’re not,” Tsukishima said, forcing faux confidence into his voice so that it wouldn’t waver, but it was hard to keep his cool when he heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth felt as though it hadn’t seen a drop of water in days. It was always so hard around Emily, and she loved it that way. Tsukishima was vaguely aware of the fact that she was probably reveling in his unease, ecstatic that she could make him crack and fall apart within only a matter of moments. 

It made Tsukishima feel pathetic. 

Emily laughed, the noise causing Tsukishima to stiffen as fear drilled itself into his bones, settling deep within him. A sick grin stretched across her lips and her eyes sparked with amusement. “You think that I would lie about this?” she retorted. Then, abruptly she reached up and curled a fist into Tsukshima’s blonde hair. She pulled him down harshly so that they were eye level, and the grin faded into a sarcastic, snarky smirk. Just a small quirk of the lips, but something that made Tsukishima’s heart skip a beat all the same. 

Tsukishima swallowed thickly, dimly aware of the fact that his consciousness was beginning to drift away. 

“‘Cause I’m not,” Emily finished firmly, yanking on Tsukishima’s hair. The action sent a painful ache through the man’s scalp, causing him to wince. Once more, Emily smiled, then after a moment she released Tsukishima, watching, wholly entertained, as he crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself. 

She crouched down, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face, looking ethereal and deadly like a succubus. Then, gripping Tsukishima’s chin tightly between her index finger and thumb she let out a breathy laugh. “You’re precious, Kei.” Emily said, scanning his face, drinking in his fear and discomfort. “You’re so easy.” She admitted softly, watching as Tsukishima cast his eyes down to the floor, shame dwelling deeply within them. 

It was true, and Tsukishima found himself hating that fact more than he thought that he could even begin to hate Emily because, really, it was his fault that he was even in a situation like this. It was his fault that he was shackled to this petite girl. 

_ Maybe if I had fought back… _ Tsukishima thought tiredly as tears slipped out from beneath his glasses, rolling down his cheeks. He felt Emily wipe one away, and he was sure that a smile was tugging on the edges of her lips. She was the only one who could make him cry; she loved that fact. 

“It’s not like I want anything to do with the baby,” Emily confessed after a quiet moment. She reached up for Tsukishima’s hair once more, though this time she carded her fingers through the soft strands, humming a tuneless song under her breath. “It’s all yours, Kei.” 

Tsukishima’s head was cloudy and everything felt distant. He looked up at Emily, stealing a tentative glance as she stared down at him, making him feel impossibly small. She regarded him as though he were a child receiving a much needed punishment. As though she hadn’t wanted to do the things that she had done, though Tsukishima knew that this was a calculated facade. She loved to make him feel powerless---in fact, she thrived on it. 

“Kei?” Emily asked, pushing Tsukishima’s chin up so that he was forced to look into her eyes. 

Tsukishima pressed himself against the wall further, trying to put any amount of distance that he could between he and Emily. He wanted to tell her to leave, wanted to rip her hands from his skin and then take an hour long shower. He couldn’t, though, because his body was frozen in place and his mind was ebbing away as he disassociated. 


	2. Prologue II - In the Comfort of a Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one might be up soon, too. I have like, three chapters already written? But I'm trying to balance things out so that I have stuff to post while I'm writing. Okay. Um. Yeah. I also have an asanoya band AU coming and....maybe a catboy fic that was going to be a oneshot but accidentally turned into a WHOLE THING. Okay. that's all. Pls enjoy part two of the prologue.

Tsukishima’s eyes were burning as a frown pulled at his lips. With exhaustion tugging on his eyelids, he looked down at Kiyoshi who was this small, fragile, helpless little thing cradled unhappily in his arms. He was swaddled in a soft blanket that had dinosaurs printed across the whole thing, but he was trying to worm his way out of the soft fabric, desperate and unhappy as aggravated cries erupted from his mouth. 

Warm, orange light was spilling onto Kiyoshi’s displeased face from the small lamp that Tsukishima had turned on. It illuminated the tiny room in a dim, cozy manner, and vaguely Tsukishima thought that it was good to be home. Good to be back in his apartment, away from the hospital, and away from  _ Emily,  _ who had muttered curses at him the entire time that he had been in her presence. 

Tsukishima blinked a couple of times, letting his eyes refocus on Kiyoshi. It was hard to believe that something so tiny and innocent was undoubtedly a product of  _ her _ , because she was anything but. She was harsh and abjectly horrifying. She was a violent, angry, vindictive person who took pride in making others feel small. 

But Kiyoshi...he wasn’t any of that. He was this clean slate; a thing of purity. And Kiyoshi...well, he was crying and Tsukishima didn’t know how to make him stop. 

Tsukishima let his long fingers glide over Kiyoshi’s forehead as he tried to shush him. He swayed back and forth, trying to pacify the baby in whatever way that he could. Kiyoshi had been going for a good hour at this point, his cries ripping through Tsukishima endlessly and mercilessly, and Tsukishima didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to stop it. 

After all, the man was barely a fully fledged human being himself, and now he had a  _ baby _ ? It all felt too ridiculous---too absurd. At this revelation, a sarcastic, wry smile pulled at Tsukishima’s lips, but he felt it fall away as quickly as it had come. 

“Kiyoshi,” Tsukishima said after a moment, his voice sounding hard, as though he was regarding another adult and not a newborn baby. “Please don’t cry.” He pleaded uselessly, stroking the back of one of Kiyoshi’s hands gently. In response, Kiyoshi curled a small, plush hand into a fist and waved his arm around uncoordinatedly. The fist came into contact with Tsukishima’s arm, and the man frowned, feeling as though he had been rejected. 

“Look,” Tsukishima began once more, shifting Kiyoshi around so that he could lift an arm to adjust the position of his glasses. The fatigue that was coursing through his veins made him feel as though his limbs were made of concrete, but he tried his best to shake the feeling off and persisted in trying to get Kiyoshi to calm down. “I know I’m not good at this,” he continued, “and I know I’m probably going to fuck up a lot. But...can’t you just go easy on me? For now, at least?”

For a moment, for a still, quiet moment, Kiyoshi’s cries seemed to waver then pause, and in that snap of time Tsukishima felt something rise within his heart before it was crushed abruptly as Kiyoshi started up again, only this time louder and more intense. His face was riddled with wild disquietude as he struggled against Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima let his expression flatten out and in the warm, orange light, the clear, pristine lens of his glasses glinted. He hiked Kiyoshi further up in his arms and let out a tired breath as he padded over to his futon and then sunk down onto it. 

“Kiyoshi, Kiyoshi, Kiyoshi...” he mumbled, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. He swayed gently from side to side, feeling wholly out of his depth, as if he had been thrown into an unruly sea and left alone to drown. 

The waves were beginning to wash over his head as salty water rushed into his mouth and nose. He was being pulled down by the sheer strength and force of nature, and was completely ready to succumb to it, completely ready to let the world fade away---

Tsukishima started, his body jolting in shock as someone knocked heavily on the wood of his apartment door. He blinked, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. Then, after a confused moment, he stood up on wobbly, unstable legs. He clutched Kiyoshi in his arms tightly, swallowing, and it was only then that he realized just how thirsty he was. Oh, he was thirsty, and exhausted, and it was one in the morning and someone was knocking on his apartment door, probably coming to complain about Kiyoshi, who he just  _ couldn’t  _ get to be quiet. 

Tsukishima made his way over to the door and his hand shook as he reached for the muted brass of the doorknob. He turned it, listening as the quiet click that usually sounded was drowned out by Kiyoshi’s cries, which had now grown raspy and worn. He pulled the door open, squinting his eyes as he peered out into the dark of the hallway.

Standing before him was a man with tired eyes and wild hair. He could barely make him out in the inky blackness that surrounded him, but if he squinted, and if he gave enough time for his eyes to adjust to the stark lack of light, he could make out little freckles dotted along the man’s face. 

He looked up at Tsukishima, somehow managing a smile. After a tired blink, he began to speak, his features soft and oddly pleasant, quelling something that had risen unknowingly in Tsukishima. “Can I help?” he asked, flicking his eyes down to Kiyoshi for a moment before he returned them to Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima stayed silent for a moment as his brain fizzled, trying to process the current situation and the ludicrousness of it all. He was cradling a baby in his arms--- _ his baby _ \---and this baby would  _ not  _ stop crying. And in the painfully early hours of the morning, a man that he couldn’t bring his exhausted brain to recognize had knocked on his door, and was now asking to help him with Kiyoshi. 

“Um,” Tsukishima replied, his voice shot from all of the hours that he had spent at the hospital without rest. From the hours that he had spent trying to soothe Kiyoshi into silence. “Okay.” Then, without a second thought, he handed Kiyoshi over, brushing the other man’s hand with his own in the process. 

If Tsukishima had been anyone else, or perhaps if he had known what he was doing with Kiyoshi in the first place, and if his brain wasn’t fried from lack of sleep, he probably wouldn’t have given his child over to the man without a second thought. He would’ve hesitated, quirked an eyebrow possibly, and maybe even slammed the door shut. But it was one in the morning, and Kiyoshi wouldn’t stop crying. 


	3. You Left me in Shambles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HI, Sorry for the long wait.....I think I'm gonna post chapter two too b/c of the long wait. Enjoy. hhehehhe
> 
> Also if it takes awhile for me to update pls keep in mind that I am working on a lot of other stories, I work four days a week, I'm in my senior yr of high school, and I have da big undiagnosed depression. I'm trying. I'm sorry for the late updates but my plate do b kind of full

Yamaguchi cradled the baby in his arms carefully, doing his best to not let the heaviness of his appendages get to him. He had managed to get an hour or two of sleep before his neighbor had come home, banging around in his apartment for a few minutes before the density of the noise shattered and shrill cries erupted abruptly. Yamaguchi’s eyes had flown open. He had tossed and turned, smothering himself in his pillow until he couldn’t take it anymore. Now, he was here, standing in front of his neighbor, a man that he had only run into a handful of times, holding  _ his _ child, blinking away the heaviness from his eyes. 

Yamaguchi smiled slightly, just the slight quirk of his lips, and his heart did a little flip in his chest as he began to rock the baby back and forth. He couldn’t help it; he loved babies. Hence why he worked with them and was majoring in child development. This cute little guy was no exception. 

Gently, he ran a finger over the head of hair that was already blooming on the infant, then began to hum out a lullabye. It was slow and soft, and he even noticed his neighbor trying to suppress a yawn. After a moment, the baby’s cries died down, and it’s face loosened, all of the tension and unhappiness draining from it. Little limbs fell limply, and Yamaguchi watched, satisfied, his stomach fluttering. 

Silence washed over the two quickly. Yamaguchi stared down at the baby for a beat longer before he looked up at his neighbor, studying his expression. He looked tired, but relief was taking a hold of his features, too, letting them droop. 

“Mom’s out, huh?” Yamaguchi joked, a tired, wobbly smile making its way across his face. He laughed a little, the sound raspy, his shoulders shaking a little as he did so. The baby stirred in his arms slightly but remained sound asleep. 

“Um,” the guy before him stuttered slightly. He shifted on his feet, looking a bit awkward for a moment before he said, “Actually, it’s just me.” 

“Oh!” Yamaguchi squeaked, his eyes widening. He stared for a moment, taking in pale hair, wiry glasses, and lanky height. “I---I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

The conversation fell flat, which made sense, given the current circumstances. Awkwardly, Yamaguchi cleared his throat, letting his gaze fall back to the baby. “What’s his name?” he asked softly, fondness seeping into his tone. 

“Kiyoshi.” 

“Kiyoshi,” Yamaguchi repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “Pretty,” he murmured, running his fingers down the smooth skin on Kiyoshi’s arms. “Well, Kiyoshi, I’ll give you back to Daddy, then.” He said, shifting the baby in his arms. Carefully, he handed him back to his neighbor. 

“How---how did you do that?” 

“Magic,” Yamaguchi replied with the flourish of his hands. A small grin spread across his face as the look of astonishment that settled on the other man's features, like, in his exhaustion, he was ready to believe whatever Yamaguchi told him, despite its obvious absurdity. He let out another little laugh, sounding worn. “Just kidding,” he clarified quickly. “I work with children.” 

“You do?” the man pushed his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose, holding Kiyoshi in an awkward position. Luckily, the baby didn’t stir or wake. 

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi’s eyes glittered with amusement and he watched as his neighbor try to get a proper grasp on Kiyoshi. Quickly, he leaned forward, adjusting his arms. “Here, it’s easier if you…” 

“Oh.” 

Yamaguchi blinked, looking at his handiwork, pleased. After a moment, his mouth fell open and he realized that he should probably introduce himself, so he did, fumbling a little bit. “Yamaguchi Tadashi---that’s my name.” And he stuck his hand out stiffly before retracting it quickly as he realized that the other man’s hands were too full to return it. 

“Tsukishima Kei,” the man replied flatly. 

“Well, um.” Yamaguchi ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair, his legs aching for the warmth and softness of his futon. “If you ever need any help with Kiyoshi, I’m right over here.” He motioned over to where his apartment was, right next to Tsukishima’s. 

“Okay.” Tsukishima replied, his eyelids drooping. 

“Right, well,” Yamaguchi stammered. “I better, um,” he motioned around vaguely, and Tsukishima nodded. 

“Right. Me too.” 

Yamaguchi gave a small, firm wave before he turned on his heel, the rough carpet of the hallway feeling almost painful on his feet. He inhaled sharply, mentally kicking himself for his awkwardness as he opened the door to his apartment and shut it softly behind him. It didn’t take long before he was falling into his futon, gentle silence surrounding him, coddling him, lulling him to sleep. 

-

Yamaguchi peeled his eyes open at the sound of his alarm. He let out a groggy groan, his body protesting as he rolled over on his futon, trying to mentally will himself to get up. After a moment the shrill sound of his phone screaming at him shook him awake further. He slapped an uncoordinated arm around, searching for the small device in the sheets of his futon until he found it and switched the alarm off, reveling momentarily in the silence that overtook him. 

With heavy limbs, he balled his hands into fists and rubbed at his eyes, sitting up. For a moment, he almost crumpled over on himself, but he quickly regained his balance and pushed himself up from his futon, his shoulders and knees cracking with the movement. 

With a quick stretch, Yamaguchi let out a sigh, staring off into the distance for a moment before he blinked a few times and started off for the bathroom. It was five thirty in the morning and he was starting his day; this was normal. What wasn’t normal, however, was the fatigue that was burying itself deep within Yamaguchi’s body. Usually, unless he was cramming the night before or being particularly irresponsible, Yamaguchi was well rested in the morning. Today, however, was an outlier, this being due to his neighbor.

_ Tsukishima _ , he reminded himself, pushing the bathroom door open with a yawn. He thought back to the night before---or rather, the early morning, and remembered the firm weight of Kiyoshi in his arms and the bewildered look on Tsukishima’s face. Clearly, he had no idea what he was doing, but Yamaguchi didn’t mind helping out. 

Yamaguchi stripped from his clothes, tossing them haphazardly on the bathroom floor with yet another yawn. Once the warmth of his pajamas was no longer engulfing him, he found himself waking up a bit more, the cold of his apartment sending a bitter chill through him so intensely that his teeth rattled and he clutched the sides of his arms. 

Quickly, desperate to rid himself from the cold, Yamaguchi turned the shower on to the hottest setting, pleased at how quickly the water heated up. As the bathroom mirror began to be smothered in fog, Yamaguchi stepped in, shivering gratefully as hot water beat against his skin, painting it pink with its warmth. 

Once more, Yamaguchi found his mind drifting over to Tsukishima. He wondered, vaguely, if they had ever run into each other before, and at this question, he dug around within himself, trying to think of any encounter that they might have had. An awkward elevator ride was all that he could come up with, but now he had last night to add to his list of Tsukishima Encounters. Not that he really wanted to add to the list, per se, but the guy was intriguing and maybe a little attractive, too. 

Mentally, Yamaguchi scolded himself for letting that thought drift into his mind. He blamed its appearance on the fact that he was so tired before he quickly reminded himself that Tsukishima was a father; he certainly didn’t have time to deal with Yamaguchi pining after him. And that was excluding the fact that they had only been within each other’s presence twice and had only had a grand total of one, choppy, awkward conversation with each other. 

“Whatever,” Yamaguchi sighed, his shoulders drooping as he did so. He scrubbed his body down with his favourite citrus bodywash---the kind that he indulged in even though it was far too expensive for his liking---and then rinsed himself off. He washed his hair thoroughly, too, before shutting the water off and stepping out into the biting cold of his apartment. 

He wished that the matimence guys would care enough about their job to fix the broken heater that sat uselessly just under the window in the living area. He had complained about it five or so times, and now as the fall leaves were beginning to drop away, relinquishing themselves to winter’s death grip, he found that his shoebox apartment could be pretty unbearable at times. 

After a second, Yamaguchi pulled himself out of his musing, toweling himself off quickly before he stumbled into his bedroom. He rooted around in his drawers for something to wear, then threw it on, struggling into a pair of jeans and snuggling into a t-shirt with a thick, cable knit sweater on top. 

Before he left, he brushed his teeth hastily, eager to rid his mouth from the sour taste that accompanied sleep. Then, he threw a scarf around his neck, pulled a hat with a fluffy pom pom on the top of it onto his head, grabbed his backpack, and swung out of the door, his feet carrying him down the hallway of his apartment complex gracelessly. 

At the rate that he was going, Hinata was going to beat him to the coffee shop and then leave him in the dust. 

-

Yamaguchi pressed a splayed out hand against the glass door of the coffee shop, blinking around the place as he let himself in. Immediately, warmth and the smell of coffee beans hit him, and he felt some tension drain from his body. 

“Yama _ guchi! _ ” an enthusiastic voice called out to him, and Yamaguchi looked over to see Hinata waving him over, a grin spread across his face. A few customers darted their gaze over to Yamaguchi at the greeting, and he tucked himself further into his sweater, feeling a bit sheepish. 

“Hey,” he greeted Hinata with the simple lift of his hand, then let it drop back down quickly. He was too tired to hold it up for any longer. 

“Wow, you look dead!” Hinata commented, his features too bright for the early morning. Yamaguchi sort of felt like he was looking directly into the sun. “Here, I ordered for you, since you were being  _ slow _ today.” 

Without any hesitation, Hinata shoved a cup of black coffee into Yamaguchi’s hand, causing Yamaguchi to stiffen in shock for a moment as the heated liquid sloshed around, hitting the top of the lid before it fell away and settled. He gave Hinata a small, wary smile and thanked him. 

“You seem really tired today,” Hinata lifted his drink---a far too sugary frappuccino with a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate sauce on top---up, letting the straw slip between his lips so that he could suck up a mouthful. 

Yamaguchi laughed. He took the lid off of his coffee and blew on it for a moment before he responded. “My neighbor kept me up.” 

“Oh?” Hinata’s eyebrows pulled together and he licked some whipped cream from his lips. 

“With a baby,” Yamaguchi continued, lifting the edge of the cup to his lips. He sipped at the coffee, ignoring the jarring burn that sizzled at his tongue and throat. 

“Why’d she do that?” Hinata questioned, looking a little dumbfounded. He shifted on his feet, energy burning within him, and as he did so, his fluffy red hair bounced, dancing with the movement wildly. Hinata always seemed to have a perpetual case of bedhead, but it wasn’t like he minded, or even noticed, for that matter. 

“It’s a guy, actually,” Yamaguchi corrected, taking another scalding sip of coffee. He felt himself warm slightly. “And, it’s not like he meant to. He didn’t know what he was doing. Clearly.” He snorted, remembering the exhausted, spent look on Tsukishima’s face, and then he kind of felt bad. He had looked like parenthood had simply been thrust upon him, and now he was failing, trying to steady himself with something,  _ anything _ , that he could get his hands on. 

“A guy?” Hinata’s eyebrows rose to his forehead and he took another long sip of his coffee, shivering as a few chunks of ice floated up the straw. Why he wanted a cold drink when it was freezing outside was beyond Yamaguchi, but it just seemed to be another one of Hinata’s many, many quirks. “So he’s like, a single dad, or something?” 

Yamaguchi shrugged, shaking his head a little. “Beats me. All I know is that I’m  _ tired _ .” 

Hinata tapped his chin, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder what that’s like. I’m never tired!” 

A quiet laugh bubbled from Yamaguchi’s throat and he looked down on Hinata, fondness flashing in his eyes. He pulled his scarf up further so that the soft fabric of it was covering his chin, then he smiled. “I know, Hinata,” he said, then wondered if the bags under his eyes were as bad as they had seemed this morning when he had caught his reflection in the mirror. 

-

Yamaguchi pulled out a chair, collapsing in the seat quickly. He let his bag fall onto the desk in front of him, but cradled his still warm coffee in his ice bitten hands. Taking a sip of the caffeinated liquid, he shivered, turning to watch as Yachi Hitoka sat down next to him, smiling over at him gently. 

“Good morning, Yamaguchi!” she greeted, her voice high and bright. 

Yamaguchi returned the smile, waving at her tiredly. He watched as she rifled around in her bag, pulling out a notebook with a puppy on the front cover. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning over colourful notes until she found where the lecture had left off last time. 

“Are you alright today?” she asked after a moment, quirking an eyebrow as she pulled three different coloured pens from her bag. She clicked at the purple one, causing Yamaguchi to blink and return her gaze, his eyes wobbly and hazy. 

“Um, yeah, just tired.” Yamaguchi returned. He set his coffee down on the desk and then rubbed at his face, suppressing a yawn. Vaguely, he thought of the night before, of Kiyoshi cradled in his arms, and a mild sense of longing tugged at his heart. At twenty years old, settling down permanently and having a family of his own wasn’t something that should be on Yamaguchi’s mind, and it wasn’t. However, he didn’t exactly mind the thought. 

In fact, he often liked to imagine himself married to a nice guy living in a warm house in a quiet neighborhood with a front yard, big enough so that he could plant roses and maybe a fruit tree. They’d have a dog, a cat, and a couple of kids, and they’d be  _ happy _ . 

A small smile quirked at Yamaguchi’s lips, and Yachi shot him a curious look as she noticed.    
  
“What ‘cha thinkin’ about, Yamaguchi?” she asked, and a few more students shuffled into the classroom, taking seats as they grumbled about how early it was. 

Yamaguchi’s thoughts stuttered and he stiffened, watching as the fantasy that he had coddled for so many years dissipated. “O-oh,” a shy blush spread across his cheeks. “Um, nothing really.” 

Yachi smiled politely, understanding that Yamaguchi wasn’t in the mood to talk about it further. “If you say so,” she replied, voice bubbly and light. Her eyes turned quickly as the professor walked through the classroom door, straightening his tie and smoothing out his blazer. He regarded the class with a tired look, and then the lecture started. 

-

Yamaguchi sighed down at his painting, scrunching his face up in displeasure as he considered the colours, the brushstrokes, and how nothing seemed to blend together at all. He stole a glance at Hinata’s piece, then let out another sigh. 

Yamaguchi had never been one for drawing or painting. His artistic talents laid within the strings of his guitar or the poems that he wrote, all of which ached with emotion. However, since he had worked so hard in high school, he had found himself with an empty space in his class schedule, and thus let Hinata talk him into taking an art class with him. 

The prompt for everyone’s paintings had been the words  _ A Sickly Sunset _ , and Yamaguchi had felt those words sit cold in his veins and settle within him thickly. He had turned them around in his mind, finding them beautiful, but not being able to express that beauty with paint and a canvas. 

Hinata, on the other hand, had produced a beautiful painting. Washed out colours brushed onto the canvas with confident strokes. His painting had a direction, a message, a  _ purpose _ . Yamaguchi’s just looked like colours, muddled and ugly. He glared. 

“Don’t make that face,” Hinata nudged him with the point of his elbow, holding a long paintbrush, its bristles coated in an ashy blue colour. 

“Why not?” Yamaguchi pouted, wiping at his cheek. His lids hung heavily as he looked down at his art piece, and he felt exhaustion wash over him, whole and unadulterated. 

Despite downing two cups of coffee in the morning, one from the cafe he had stopped by with Hinata and one from a vending machine, Yamaguchi could not shake the fatigue that he felt. Often, he found his mind drifting back to Tsukishima for reasons that he could not find, and often, he pushed those thoughts away, trying his hardest to focus on class so that he didn’t miss anything or fall behind. 

“It’s not that bad, Yamaguchi, really,” Hinata assured, tilting his head as he considered the piece. “Maybe just...blend it a bit more. And use less saturated colours...and that shade of yellow doesn’t really go with the purple there.” Hinata squinted. 

In response to this criticism, Yamaguchi groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. He squeezed his eyes shut, “You can just say it sucks, you know.” 

Hinata grew silent. He continued to stare down at the painting, sorting his thoughts out. “It doesn’t suck,” he said after a moment, then paused. “Okay maybe it sucks a little.” 

Yamaguchi slumped forward, pushing the canvas out of the way. He’d just have to start over, but the idea seemed so taxing and exhausting that it made him yawn and lay his head down on the desk. He pressed his forehead to the cool plastic of it, and he shivered, mentally cursing God for making winter a  _ thing.  _

“It’s so cold,” Yamaguchi breathed, letting his eyes slip closed. 

“It’s not,” Hinata rebuked lazily, his eyebrows pinched together as he dotted a few stars in the sky that stretched across his canvas. 

Yamaguchi peeled his eyes open, sneaking a peek at Hinata. He was tucked into a sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and washed out overalls. He looked perfectly content sitting there, perched on the stool that he was sitting on, swiping paint around with deft movements. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Yamaguchi replied grumpily. “You’re like, the human embodiment of the sun.” Goosebumps pulled at his skin. Normally, it was golden and tan, sun kissed and warm, but now it was growing pale. Yamaguchi hated the sight of his pasty arms. 

Hinata laughed, turning to look at Yamaguchi. He smiled, his long eyelashes flitting as he blinked. “Is that a bad thing?” he questioned, looking amused. 

Yamaguchi’s sour expression faded away, and he returned Hinata’s smile, shrugging. For a moment, he sunk into his mind, then he asked, “Stay over tonight?” Afterwards, he quickly added, “I’ll make curry,” hoping that this offer would sway Hinata to do as he wanted. 

Unfortunately, Hinata’s expression was firm and he shook his head. “Can’t. Kageyama’s taking me out.” Then, a small frown tugged at his lips. He tossed Yamaguchi a sad gaze, shaking his head a little. “Sorry, Yamaguchi, I shouldn’t have---” 

Abruptly, Yamaguchi sat up, his spine stiffening so quickly that his bones cracked with the force of it. “No, it’s okay. It’s been, like, a year. I should be over it, right?” 

At this, Hinata’s frown deepened. He set down his paintbrush on his palette and fixed Yamaguchi with a serious look that didn’t suit his features. “You shouldn’t,” he said honestly. “Maybe you could go over to Noya and Tanaka’s place.” He suggested, but Yamaguchi waved him off quickly. 

“Nah, I don’t want to---” he cut himself off, making a strangled noise. “You know how they get.”    
  
“Yeah…” Hinata cast his eyes downward, a look on his face that made Yamaguchi’s stomach knot up.

“Listen, Hinata, I’m fine---” 

“Maybe I can just call Kageyama and cancel---” 

“No.  _ No.”  _ Yamaguchi’s hand waved around rapidly, shaking his head. “Don’t let me ruin your date night because I’m still sad over something stupid.” 

Hinata’s look sharpened a little, “It’s not stupid, Tadashi.” 

All Yamaguchi could do was manage a weak smile. He blinked a couple of times, blinking back warm tears that threatened to spill. It had been a year. It  _ was  _ stupid. Despite these thoughts, all he did was reply with a soft, “Okay,” feeling pain and aggravation coil in his heart. 

-

Yamaguchi opened the door to his apartment harshly, swinging the door with such force that it creaked on its hinges. He balled up his hands into fists and rubbed as his eyes uselessly, letting out a pained noise. Sometimes, if he thought hard enough, he could still feel bruises pressed into his skin, painting him ugly shades of purple and blue and green. Sometimes, he could still hear yelling and something fisting the fabric of his shirt aggressively. 

It had been a year, and everything still hurt. 

He threw his backpack down on the floor with a  _ smack _ and slammed the door shut, immediately regretting doing so as the walls around him rattled. It was eight pm; far too late to be slamming around or having the kind of breakdown that Yamaguchi was currently having. 

Yamaguchi stomped over to his bedroom, trying to quell all of the emotions that heatedly rose inside of him. It had been stupid to ask Hinata to stay. It had been stupid to bring everything up in the first place. He should’ve just continued to  _ ignore  _ it all because, previously, that had been working. Well, maybe not  _ working,  _ but Yamaguchi had been managing. Now, though, things were spilling over and he couldn’t take it. 

Smashing his face into his pillow, Yamaguchi let out a broken cry, screaming and cursing. His throat burned with the force of it all, and after a moment he collapsed onto his futon, feeling weak and useless. 

The world fell silent for a moment, save for the rush of cars outside of the apartment building, and Yamaguchi was trying to pull himself together, desperately wiping away the tears that rolled down his cheeks, choking down breaths as he tried to regulated his breathing instead of succumbing to the panic attack that was trying to wash over him. 

This silence was quickly shattered, though, as a wailing, sharp cry sounded. At this sound, Yamaguchi’s heart shriveled up in his chest and his eyes widened. While in the midst of drowning in his own issues, he had forgotten that other people live around him. This included a single dad and his newborn child, and Yamaguchi was pretty damn sure that he had just woken both of them up with his stupid, pathetic breakdown. 

Yamaguchi’s suspicions were confirmed when the crying grew louder. After a moment of hunching down on his futon in shame, he heard a firm, studious knock on his apartment door and he scrambled up, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly as he stumbled over his feet. 

With a shaking hand, he turned the door knob, his stomach churning as he opened it to see exactly who he suspected: Tsukishima holding a crying Kiyoshi, looking rather displeased with this turn of events. 

“Um,” Yamaguchi choked out, his eyes shining as he stared up at Tsukishima, feeling worse and worse by the moment. 

Tsukishima shot him an annoyed look. “Can you fix him, since, you know, you kind of woke him up with all your…” he trailed off, looking Yamaguchi up and down. The lights in the hallway had yet to have been turned off, so now both of the men were getting a better look at each other. Tsukishima studied Yamaguchi. He had a frazzled expression on his face, his hair was standing up as though he had been sleeping on it for hours, and his eyes were red rimmed and desperate. “Slamming.” Tsukishima finished firmly, letting his eyes drop to Yamaguchi’s outfit. 

“F-fix him?” Yamaguchi stuttered, his mouth falling open as his brain processed the request. After a moment he blinked a couple of times and then croaked out an, “Oh, sure.” 

In a mere matter of seconds, Kiyoshi was in Yamaguchi’s arms just like he had been the night before. Yamaguchi’s eyebrows were pulled together as he tried to smooth out his rough voice to soothe Kiyoshi. He swung him back and forth gently, and nothing seemed to work until he said, “Come on, please,  _ please,”  _ his voice cracking with the words. 

At that, Kiyoshi’s cries began to grow more subdued. Yamaguchi used this leverage to suppress them further until they finally died down and he relaxed, smiling a little as Kiyoshi’s face fell into something soft as sleep overtook him. He looked down on the baby for a couple of seconds, feeling pleased, and for a moment he even forgot about how much everything about his life sort of sucked. 

Finally he raised his gaze to Tsukishima, sending him an apologetic look as he handed Kiyoshi back. “I’m, uh, sorry,” he stared down at his feet, feeling shame swelling within him at the fact that he couldn’t control his emotions better. And,  _ really,  _ he should be over it all by now. 

“Right, well,” Tsukishima regarded Yamaguchi in a guarded way, but as Yamaguchi met his eyes, he could tell that something was flashing and sparking within them softly. He just wasn’t sure what. “If it’s any consolation, you put him back to sleep just as quickly as you woke him up.” 

Yamaguchi managed a broken smile, unsure of what to say to that. He sort of just wanted to melt away into nothingness and never return to the sick joke that was reality, but it didn’t seem like that was an option. 

“You have some---” Tsukishima reached out, cutting himself off. His thumb swiped over Yamaguchi’s cheekbone, tracing a line of purple paint, and in reaction to this, Yamaguchi reeled backwards, his eyes widening in shock and fear. Quickly, Tsukishima snatched his hand back, slight surprise coating his features. “Sorry,” he apologized, trying to keep his voice even. “I shouldn’t have…” 

Yamaguchi pressed his index and middle finger to his cheekbone where Tsukishima had grazed his skin. He half expected it to be sore and bruised, but when he realized that his suspicions were incorrect, he dropped his hand from his face and shook his head. “It’s okay. I’m just...jumpy, that’s all.” 

Tsukishima’s stare was intense, Yamaguchi realized. He could tell that much, but nothing else, really. There was this distance that riddled his face, as though he was trying to keep his space from everyone even when he was interacting with them. 

Yamaguchi blinked, feeling aimless. “Well.” He said. 

“Right,” Tsukishima replied. “Thank you.”    
  
Yamaguchi nodded, feeling as though any amount of energy that he had had within him drained from him quickly. His legs felt weak under his weight. He watched as Tsukishima slipped into the apartment next to his silently, Kiyoshi tucked into one of his arms, fast asleep. 

Quietly, Yamaguchi shut the door, letting out a sigh. 

A year. 

It had been a year. 


	4. Far From Reality; Someone Keep me Grounded

Sugawara smiled at him brightly, his eyes squinting with the force of the expression. He was bright and giddy, his hands tucked into the pockets of his navy green coat. 

It wasn’t all that early in the morning, in fact, it was eleven pm, actually, but Tsukishima still felt that it was too early to put up with Sugawara’s antics. He watched as the older man rocked back and forth on his feet. 

“You didn’t have to come,” Tsukishima informed flatly, eyeing Suga with an exhausted look on his face. Purple circles sat under his eyes, bringing out the hazel colour of his irises. His shoulders were drooping with fatigue. 

“I wanted to see the baby!” Suga exclaimed, pulling his hands from his pockets so that he could clasp them together. The action made a soft sound, and the grin on his face widened. A stray piece of ashy hair that was sticking up on top of his head bounced around. 

Tsukishima blinked at him. He felt drained and perpetually upset by his current situation, plagued by constant thoughts of someone that he had tried desperately to erase from his life. The only time that those thoughts faded away was when Kiyoshi was in his arms, looking like the picture of innocence. In those moments, Tsukishima couldn’t exactly say that his heart was full, but something tugged at it nonetheless. 

After a moment, Tsukishima sighed, relenting. “Fine, but don’t wake him up. It takes forever for me to lull him back to sleep,” he warned, voice firm. 

Suga nodded eagerly, stepping into the apartment as Tsukishima moved out of the way. He followed his colleague with graceful strides into the bedroom where Kiyoshi was asleep in his crib, bundled up in a blanket, his hands curled into little fists.

Suga’s face softened as his eyes landed on the baby, his expression dulling out into something more even and measured. The idea that Tsukishima--- _ young _ Tsukishima who was still recovering from everything that had happened to him---was a  _ father _ made something within him ache. He stole a quick glance at Tsukishima, watching as he looked down on his son with a muddled expression. 

The news had been a shock to Suga, mainly because he had known everything that had gone down, being the only person that Tsukishima had ever confided in. Quickly, though, he recovered from this shock and tried to nurse the thought of Tsukishima being a parent. It felt odd and out of place, taking up so much space in his mind that he found himself zoning out far too often at work to consider it for the umpteenth time. 

Tsukishima had seemed wholly apathetic regarding the situation, but Suga could see the flashes of panic that struck his eyes every time someone asked him about it. He could see the isolation that was beginning to engulf the younger, could see how he was drowning in a situation that he could barely process or handle. 

Suga often found himself wondering if he would have done the same thing if he was put in Tsukishima’s place, and the horror of it all often rattled him when he mused about it. But then, it didn’t really matter what Suga would do, because Tsukishima had taken that baby home. He had cradled it in his arms and given it a name--- _ Kiyoshi,  _ Suga reminded himself with a gentle smile. 

He wanted to comment on how much Kiyoshi looked like Tsukishima, or something to that effect, but with his undeveloped face and his eyes closed, all Suga could see was burnt auburn strands of silky hair, sitting in little wisps on top of Kiyoshi’s head. 

Emily was ever present, even when she wasn’t really around. 

“He’s adorable, Tsukishima,” Suga commented finally after having his thoughts spiral for a good few seconds. He looked over at Tsukishima, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Tsukishima said, looking pale and like he hadn’t slept in far too long, kept up by anxiety and Kiyoshi’s shrill cries. 

Sugawara swallowed, letting out a heavy breath. He couldn’t shake the worry that weighed heavily on him. He hadn’t heard from Tsukishima since he had taken paternity leave from the museum, despite the plethora of calls and texts that he had sent. 

Though Tsukishima would refuse to admit it, he and Suga were friends, through and through. Accordingly, Suga only wanted the best for him, and he knew that Tsukishima was aware of this fact, yet he continued to dance around it, isolating himself when the going got rough despite Suga’s constant reaching out. 

Suga supposed that he couldn’t exactly blame him. He was more than aware of the fact that his relationship with Emily---mentally, Suga shivered at the thought of her---had fucked him up in more ways than one, but he just wished that Tsukishima would stop keeping his distance for  _ one goddamn moment _ and just let Suga help him. He was more than willing. 

Sugawara turned away from Kiyoshi, wringing his hands. “So, how’ve you been holding up?” he asked, then pursed his lips as Tsukishima looked over at him, blinking a couple of times. 

The taller shrugged, adjusting his glasses in what was supposed to be a nonchalant manner, but his hand shook. “Fine.” He said, looking like he was trying to keep himself together. 

“Are you sure?” Suga pressed, leaning forward a little. His eyebrows pulled together in disbelief. 

Tsukishima nodded, looking away. 

“Right,” Sugawara said, a little disappointed that their conversation had hit a wall so easily. “Well, you look exhausted so I’ll leave you to get some rest. Don’t---” he cut himself off, offering Tsukishima a wobbly smile. “Don’t be a stranger, alright, Kei? You know I’m always here for you. Daichi, too.” 

Tsukishima tensed at the sound of his given name, panic rising in his eyes quickly. 

Suga realized---too late, but he realized nonetheless. An apologetic look washed over his features and he held his hands up, waving them around rapidly. “Sorry, Tsukishima! Sorry---shit!” he brought a hand up to his mouth, covering it as though that would stop any more words from spilling out. After a second, he dropped his hand, looking sad. “Sorry,” he apologized once more. 

“It’s okay,” uneasiness was clear in Tsukishima’s tone, though, and he felt himself beginning to drift away into a new, hazier realm. Despite this, he tried his best to ground himself, not wanting to worry or upset Suga further. 

“I should---I should go,” Suga scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll let myself out.” He turned to leave, then abruptly stopped himself, tossing a glance Tsukishima’s way. “I meant what I said, though. Don’t be a stranger.”    
  
“I won’t,” Tsukishima agreed, but the words felt like a lie on his tongue. 

-

Dissociation came easy to Tsukishima---had been coming easy to him for years, at this point. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in a vague and mild way, he was aware of the fact that this was probably a problem, especially now, considering the fact that he has a newborn baby to take care of. Despite this fact, Tsukishima never worried himself with trying to ground his mind. Instead, he simply let himself drift off. 

The world was growing further and further away, and Tsukishima felt his eyes droop closed as exhaustion took over him. He was sitting on his futon, curled up in a ball with his arms hanging loosely around his knees. Nothing felt real. Even  _ he  _ didn’t feel real, and this had all been triggered simply by his own  _ name.  _ He couldn’t hear it without his sense of reality splitting. 

Emily had taken so much from him, so many bits and pieces of him that she had chipped away at, pocketing the remnants for herself, so selfish and willing to take. So willing to leave Tsukishima alone, cowering, his mind clouded as he reeled away from everything around him. 

She used to smile when he cried, laugh and coo at him in amusement, so Tsukishima learned not to cry. She used to strike him when he rebuked her venomous words, every slap stinging with the impact of more than just the hit, so Tsukishima learned to keep his mouth shut and not speak. She used to scream bloody murder at Tsukishima when he pushed at her, trying to get her to leave him alone, so he learned not to fight back. 

All Tsukishima could do was sit and blink wearily ahead, trying his best to cope with the onslaught of  _ everything  _ around him. Only now, Emily wasn’t surrounding him. She wasn’t yelling or laughing or hitting him. She wasn’t leaning down in front of him, her lips curved up into a sick sort of smile. 

Still, though, Tsukishima sat, pained and scared. 

He curled his hands into his hair, tugging at the blonde strands in aggravation as the sun poured into the room through the window above him. He loathed the bright light; he wanted to make it disappear. Wanted to the flick the sun off like a light and let the darkness engulf him as he tried to find safety. 

Next to him, he heard his phone buzz, and this momentarily pulled him out of his spiraling. His eyes focused down on the device where it sat discarded next to him. Once more it buzzed, then again, and with a shaky hand, Tsukishima reached out for it. 

It felt too heavy in his palm, and he sort of felt sick as he unlocked it to see that Sugawara had sent him a few texts. 

_ Sugawara: hey hey Tsukishima!!!!! _

_ Read 12:01 pm _

_ Sugawara: Daichi sayz hi!  _

_ Read 12:01 pm _

_ Sugawara: he also wants to see Kiyoshi,,, send a pic! _ _   
_ _ Read 12:01 pm _

Tsukishima inhaled, blinking a few times. He pushed himself up onto his feet shakily, gripping his phone too hard in his hand. The world around him was spinning, and his body was heavy and didn’t even feel like his own. 

Slowly, he trudged over to Kiyoshi’s crib and, with too much effort, leaned over it, snapping a quick picture of the sleeping baby before he let out a heavy breath and felt his stomach ache with hunger. He hadn’t eaten in a long while, all of his energy and focus going into taking care of Kiyoshi and getting sleep when he could, but, as he sent the image, he supposed that now he could take a little time for himself. 

Plus, eating something might help ground him a little. 

_ 🌿 _ _ Tsukishima _ _ 🌿 _ _ : [Image attached] _

_ Read 12:04 pm  _

_ Sugawara: so cute!!!!  _

_ Read 12:09 pm  _

_ Sugawara: Daichi says he wants one now  _

_ Read 12:09 pm  _

_ 🌿 _ _ Tsukishima _ _ 🌿 _ _ : Ok  _

_ 12:14 pm  _

Tsukishima locked his phone and set it on the kitchen counter, ignoring a few more texts that Sugawara sent, hounding him about taking care of himself. 

_ I’m doing the best I can,  _ he thought, but then, just as he was rooting around his nearly empty fridge, he heard Kiyoshi begin to stir and wake. Quickly, his attention was pulled from finding himself a meal to getting one inside of Kiyoshi’s belly. The squeeze in his stomach would just have to wait. 

-

For the first time in too long, Tsukishima had gone out to eat. Only to a little cafe that he enjoyed finding solace in, and only to eat a croissant and sip on scalding hot sugary coffee while Kiyoshi sat in his lap, his back against Tsukishima’s chest. Still though, he had gone out, and still, he had  _ finally  _ gotten something to eat, though, admittedly, it wasn’t much. 

He hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten in the past few days. After all, he had been so focused on caring for Kiyoshi, anxiety gnawing through him relentlessly constantly. Due to this, he hadn’t dressed well enough for the weather and found himself shivering violently as he walked briskly out of the elevator and down the hall that led to his apartment. 

Kiyoshi was cradled against him making soft, pleased noises as Tsukishima stroked the back of his head with his thumb and tried to keep him warm. The blonde man yawned, blinking drowsiness from his eyes as he grew closer to his apartment. He was itching for a nap, though he didn’t know if Kiyoshi would go down easily or not. After all, he seemed pretty awake right now… 

Then, abruptly, Tsukishima stopped in his tracks, only one door away from his own apartment. 

He stood in front of Yamaguchi’s apartment, watching it with startled eyes as he heard sobs and broken cries bleed through the walls. He heard Yamaguchi inhale a stuttering, raspy breath before he broke down once more, babbling on about things that were too muffled to make out. 

Tsukishima swallowed, feeling something tug painfully at his heart at the sound of the other man’s cries. He thought about a few nights earlier when Yamaguchi had come home slamming around, and how he had looked when he opened the door. 

Tsukishima had done his best to fix Yamaguchi with an irritated look that night, and he was mostly successful with that endeavor because he  _ had  _ been pretty irritated. But he had also looked into Yamaguchi’s shining eyes and seen something that he recognized, something that made him feel a little sick to his stomach. 

Their conversation had been brief and a little awkward, but Tsukishima had found himself not wanting it to end, afraid of what might happen to Yamaguchi if he shut the door and walked off. Despite this vague fear, he had done so anyway because Yamaguchi was a practical stranger that he certainly shouldn’t care about, but he kind of did, even if it was illogical and even if he was desperately afraid of being burned. 

The cries continued to seep into Tsukishima, unnerving him. For a moment, he hesitated, then stepped forward, thinking that maybe he should check to see if Yamaguchi was okay. And maybe it would be a little weird, and a little out of line, and maybe it would seem like Tsukishima was eavesdropping on him, but he was already curling his hand into a fist, ready to knock on the door. 

He was close to doing so, too, until he heard other voices from inside of the apartment begin to soothe Yamaguchi in a low tone. Yamaguchi choked out a few more sobs before he went silent for a moment, then Tsukishima could hear a movie blaring through the speakers of a TV. 

Tsukishima swallowed, dropping his hand, feeling foolish. Quickly, he turned to the side and walked swiftly into his apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. 

-

Tsukishima looked ahead, eyes heavy lidded and tired. He blinked sluggishly at Yamaguchi, handing Kiyoshi over without a word. This is just how things had become between the two in the short week that Kiyoshi had been living nestled in Tsukishima’s shoebox apartment. 

Kiyoshi would inevitably fall into a crying fit around the same time every night, long after the sun had dropped from the sky, leaving the moon in its wake to project its silver shining light onto the earth. 

Tsukishima sort of felt bad for keeping the other man up so late, as he always looked hopelessly exhausted when he was quelling Kiyoshi’s cries, but Yamaguchi had never made any complaint, compliant to help Tsukishima when his parenting skills fell flat. 

Yamaguchi smiled tiredly down on Kiyoshi as silence wove itself into the air, softening Kiyoshi’s cries until they faded out of reality altogether. He continued to rock the baby back and forth, looking as though he had soothed himself into a trance of sorts. 

Abruptly, Tsukishima reached for Kiyoshi, ready to take him and rid Yamaguchi of him so that he could get back to sleep, but Yamaguchi recoiled a little. 

“Be  _ careful,  _ Tsukki,” he hissed, looking worse for wear. Tsukishima noticed this fact as their eyes met. “You’re going to wake him up again.” 

Tsukishima swallowed, wondering why a stranger was better with his own child than he was. Shame coiled within him, sitting in his stomach in a cold and uncomfortable manner. 

“Right.” Tsukishima said, as if he knew anything. He chose to ignore the fact that, in the midst of Yamaguchi’s exhaustion, he had shortened Tsukishima’s name. Instead, he watched as Yamaguchi continued to stare down on Kiyoshi, something soft settling in his eyes, dampening the worn look that coated his features. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Yamaguchi said after a moment, not lifting his eyes to meet Tsukishima’s. “I’ve just been...having a hard time lately.” Then, he glanced up, something desperate and pained on his face. 

Tsukishima’s eyes widened. He could barely see Yamaguchi all that well, but he didn’t like what he  _ could  _ see. He looked so broken and torn down and the expression didn’t suit his youthful features. “It’s okay,” Tsukishima replied weakly, letting the conversation lapse into silence until Yamaguchi picked it up once more. 

“Right, well,” Yamaguchi said, stepping closer to Tsukishima so that he could hand Kiyoshi back. As he did so, their hands brushed. Tsukishima noticed that the pads of his fingertips were calloused. “I better get to bed.”    
  
“Sure,” Tsukishima still felt Yamaguchi’s fingers ghosting over his own, but he tried to ignore it, blinking a few times as if that would rid his mind of the thought. He watched as Yamaguchi turned to leave, but before he could, words were spilling from his mouth. Words that he didn’t want to be asking, but that he couldn’t help. “You’re okay, right?” he asked, sounding a little desperate. 

Yamaguchi turned to him and then laughed in a dry and humourless manner. A smile hung on his lips, but it looked a little sour. “As okay as I’ll ever be.” He said, then, “Goodnight, Tsukishima.” 

Tsukishima didn’t reply. He  _ couldn’t _ . All he could think of was the fact that he liked how his name sounded on Yamaguchi’s tongue, probably a little too much. 

-

Tsukishima curled his hand tighter around Kiyoshi’s carrier, looking down on his son who was swaddled in a soft blanket with little dinosaurs dotted on the fabric. Sugawara had gifted it to him only a couple of months before Kyoshi had been born, a shining grin spread across his face as Tsukishima had tentatively accepted the gift, the reality that he really  _ was  _ having a baby crashing down on him quickly and painfully. 

Now, as his eyes scanned the fabric gently, he could feel the sight smooth over some panic that was rising in his chest. Kiyoshi looked calm in the carrier, bundled up with his eyes closed as his mind drifted into a quiet, peaceful sleep. A small smile tugged at the corners of Tsukishima’s lips, but this expression was wiped away quickly as he heard a yell rip through the hallway of the apartment building. 

“Wait!” someone called out, tripping over themselves as the doors of the elevator were beginning to slide closed. 

And Tsukishima was content to simply lock the person out, let those doors close on them and not give a damn about it. That is, until he caught a flash of freckles and a familiar face scrunched up in panic. Quickly, he shot his hand out, sliding it in between of the two doors, watching as they pulled back smoothly, revealing Yamaguchi, who looked winded and frazzled. 

“Oh, Tsukishima,” he said in surprise, pink tinting his cheeks. For a moment, he simply stood in front of the elevator, looking a bit awkward before he coughed a little and stepped inside, letting the doors close behind him. “Thanks.” 

Tsukishima shrugged a little before he let his gaze fall back down to Kiyoshi. He shifted a little in his carrier. 

Next to him, Yamaguchi rolled forward onto his toes, linking his hands behind his back as a coy look overtook his face. He glanced over at Tsukishima, titling his head slightly. “So where are you off to?” he asked.    
  
Tsukishima looked over to Yamaguchi, taking in how he looked under the lights in the elevator. His features were soft, his eyes wide and brown, framed by dark eyelashes. Freckles were dotted across his skin, all over his cheeks, above his eyebrows, splattering down his arms. And his hair, Tsukishima noticed, had been dyed a deep shade of green. It reminded Tsukishima of the leaves of ivy in its colour and the way that it was sticking up in an unruly way. 

“The supermarket,” Tsukishima replied, not bothering to flick his eyes away when Yamaguchi met his gaze. 

“The supermarket,” Yamaguchi repeated, smiling a little, looking worn and dogeared around the edges. 

“How about you?” Tsukishima returned, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Oh---uh,” Yamaguchi stammered, his eyes widening a little. He brought a hand up to his head, tugging at a few strands of hair nervously. “‘M just hanging out with a few friends.” 

“At ten in the morning?” Tsukishima questioned. 

“Um, well.”    
  
Tsukishima’s lips parted, and he found himself slightly amused by how Yamaguchi flushed further and his voice grew higher in pitch. 

“Y’know,” Yamaguchi continued, though he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with the words that were coming out of his mouth in choppy intervals. Finally, he let the conversation die, swallowing nervously. He glanced off to the side, blinking a few times, and as he did so, the elevator doors opened. 

In silence, the two walked out of the elevator together, walking swiftly from the apartment building, save for the couple of times Yamaguchi tripped over his own feet. Once the two were out into the cold, bitter air of the fall weather, Yamaguchi turned to Tsukishima, his eyes shining, albeit in a somewhat sad manner. 

“Well, I’ll be off,” he said, his face contorting into what was supposed to be a kind expression, but instead looked a little pained and strained. 

“Right,” Tsukishima replied, waving as they parted ways, turning to go in the opposite direction. As Yamaguchi walked off, Tsukishima glanced over his shoulder, watching as Yamaguchi’s faux expression faded, watching as his shoulders slumped down with emotion and as he hunched over on himself. Quickly, Tsukishima turned away, trying to find it within himself not to care. 


	5. Coping as Best I can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIII. Sorry it's been awhile; I've been writing at a snails pace LMAoo.......
> 
> ANYWAY, guess what? I saved up enough for a desktop computer over my own so now I have more access to a computer!!! Hopefully I'll be able to write more:) okay. That's all. pls enjoy uwu

Yamaguchi shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, curling them up into fists in aggravation. It was obvious that Tsukishima had seen right through his lies, had noticed the strained expression on his face and the forced nature of his words. And what irritated him even more was the fact that this man was a practical stranger, so he shouldn’t care, but he  _ did.  _

It was embarrassing how weak he was. How he let his emotions bleed out onto the surface so easily, despite trying so hard to keep them underwraps. And he had been attending therapy lately, too. Only due to the heavy recommendation of Nishinoya, and only for the past few months, but you’d think that Yamaguchi would be making progress. That he’d be resolving his trauma instead of succumbing to it. You’d  _ think _ , but Yamaguchi was stagnant, still in the same place that he’d been for awhile. Except, his panic attacks  _ had _ been getting worse lately, so maybe he wasn’t in the same place. Maybe he was in a different place; a darker one. 

Yamaguchi shivered, glancing over his shoulder at Tsukishima. His figure was growing smaller and smaller as he walked off to the supermarket, and vaguely, Yamaguchi wished that he was trailing along beside him. Maybe, if he went to the supermarket he could pick out his favourite type of chips, or the canned coffee that he loved in spite of how painfully bitter it was. Maybe he would be smiling and laughing at something inane that Tsukishima said instead of walking to a therapy appointment, where he would pretend that he was ready to move on from a relationship that had taken up too much of his life. Pretend that he wasn’t dragged down by his trauma more days than not. 

Putting on a brave face was so exhausting, and often people told him that he didn’t need to, but he never believed them. As soon as he showed any symptoms of his trauma they wanted that hardened exterior once more. That’s just how things were, and that’s just how Yamaguchi liked things. So why was his therapist trying to chip away at his facade so diligently? Why did it even  _ matter _ ?

These questions banged at the curves of Yamaguchi’s skull as he stumbled into the metro station, shivering in his shoes. He patted the hair on the back of his neck, trying to warm the skin there, but he found that this did nothing and let out a low, aggravated noise. 

After shoving through crowds of people, most of which were dressed primly in sharp business attire, holding heavy leather briefcases, Yamaguchi found himself sitting on the seat of a train, shifting between a middle aged woman tucked into a scarf and denim jacket, and a man whose legs were spread too far out for Yamaguchi to be comfortable. 

In August, Yamaguchi had always found it within himself to walk, not minding the heat that tended to dampen his forehead with perspiration. Now, though, it was too cold to bear the weather for long. 

The train ride wasn’t insufferably long, but once Yamaguchi was freed of his seat-buddies, he immediately felt himself relax. After navigating through even more throngs of people, he found himself standing in front of a large, fancy building that reached upwards towards the grey clouds that hung in the sky, lazily drifting about. 

Thickly, he swallowed, then tried to regain some piece of himself that had seemed to wilt die away on the ride there. After a few seconds of standing in front of the building, looking wholly intimidated, Yamaguchi walked forward, feeling as though his feet were made of concrete. 

_ What’s the point?  _ he thought as he entered the building, warmth engulfing him immediately, thawing out his cheeks and fingers. 

_ What’s the point? _

-

“It’s okay, Yamaguchi.”    
Yamaguchi’s therapist was a woman with long, dark hair and a scar under her lip. She had big, warm eyes and nails that were always coated in something clear and shiny. She was nice enough, but Yamaguchi never believed a word that she said. 

“It’s normal to feel guilty, and it’s normal to be frustrated, but I think you’ve been contextualizing things  _ wrong _ ,” she explained, sending him a soft smile. 

Yamaguchi, who was leaning forward in his seat on a navy blue couch, his head resting in the palm of his hand, furrowed his eyebrows, his lips curling down into a frown. 

Sensing his confusion, she continued. 

“See, you’ve been viewing this from the perspective of  _ it’s been a year.  _ Not,  _ it’s  _ only _ been a year. _ Recovery is a process,” Yamaguchi resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that; he had heard those words too many times from too many people. “And it’s often not linear. Let yourself work through this process without trying to rush it. Let yourself work through your trauma without being so self critical.” 

“Right.” He said flatly in response, letting his eyes fall down to his jeans. He picked at a loose thread that fell from a rip at the knee, tugging on the fiber until it snapped and he could wind it around the tip of his finger. 

“So you mentioned that you’ve been experiencing worsening panic attacks lately. Let’s talk about those.” 

Yamaguchi looked up at her, and he sort of wanted to curse her out to wipe the patient look from her features. He quelled the urge, though, and instead asked a stupid question just to piss her off a little. “What’s there to talk about?” 

“Well,” she leaned forward, a challenging look sparking in her eyes. “Why do you think you’ve been experiencing them more?” 

“I…” Yamaguchi swallowed. He looked back down at his pants, longing for another loose strand of fabric to distract himself with. He found none. “It’s probably because this is the anniversary. Of when I left. And things feel more vivid.” He looked down at his hand, splaying it out, studying the creases of it so he didn’t have to return her gaze. 

“More vivid?” she asked, scribbling something down in the notepad that she was holding. 

“It’s like,” Yamaguchi thought for a moment, then curled his hand up into a fist, digging his nails into the flesh of his palm. “The weather, the smell of the air, even Tanaka’s  _ voice  _ brings it all back. Sometimes…” he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Sometimes it feels like it’s all still happening. And then I have to force myself to remember that it’s not.” 

“Yamaguchi.” 

The tone of her voice made him look up. Made cold fear settle within him. 

“We have talked about the possibility of you having PTSD, haven’t we?” 

“Um,” Yamaguchi blinked. “Maybe,” he mumbled, feeling like he wanted to vomit right onto the carpet that his feet sat grounded on. “I don’t know…” 

“You exhibit many of the symptoms.” She said resolutely, then, “Now, to be properly diagnosed you would have to go see a specialist, but it certainly is an option. And it’s one that I encourage, as long as you think a diagnosis would help you find the steps that you need to take towards recovery. We could get you enrolled in specialized programs, and maybe try medication for the anxiety.” 

All of these things were rolling off of her tongue so easily and all Yamaguchi could do was stare at her with wide panicked eyes. A PTSD diagnosis? Anxiety medication? Was Yamaguchi really that broken? Was he really that  _ fucked _ . 

Sensing Yamaguchi’s nervous reaction, she fell back against the seat of her chair, trailing off. Then, with a smile she said, “Nevermind that. We’ll come back to it later. You said you’ve had trouble sleeping lately. Is this related to what happened, or something external?”    
  
Yamaguchi blinked a few times, trying to sink himself back into the conversation. “External,” he answered shakily. Then, with his mind hopping over Tsukishima and Kiyoshi, he almost found himself smiling a little, the expression wavering slightly. “My neighbor has a baby.” 

“A baby?” she smiled, knowing of Yamaguchi’s attachment to children and how family oriented he seemed to be. 

“Yeah. His name’s Kiyoshi,” he said. “He cries a lot at night, so I usually help Tsukishima put him back to sleep.” He explained, not bothering to quell the soft expression that was seeping onto his features.

“Tsukishima,” she repeated, scribbling something down before she looked back up at Yamaguchi. “A friend of yours?”    


Yamaguchi shook his head. “No, not really.” He corrected, “But maybe in the future. I...like him,” he decided on saying. “He’s...nice.” 

Looking pleased, she leaned forward a little, crossing her legs into a more comfortable position. “Well, then, how about we focus on that? How about, instead of focusing on your trauma, which just seems to be distressing you further, we focus on this…” she looked down at her notes. “Tsukishima? Does he seem like a person that could build you up?” 

“Um,” Yamaguchi paused. He didn’t know, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to have to focus on things like this. But after falling into a very self destructive rut after everything had gone down, and after making acquaintances with some people even worse than  _ he  _ was, Yamaguchi had to think about stuff like this. “I guess.” He replied hesitantly after a moment. “Though I doubt he’d have time for me.”

“Well, it never hurts to try.” 

-

Yamaguchi pulled his legs up to his chest, shivering as he clenched his teeth painfully. The hallway was freezing, and his apartment was probably no better, but it wasn’t like that mattered because he had locked himself out of his place, unaware of the fact that he had forgotten to slip his key into his pocket before he left for his therapy appointment. 

“Stupid, Tadashi,” he hissed at himself, digging his nails into his knees in aggravation. Self loathing swelled hotly within himself. After a moment, though, his deepening self hate was put on hold as he heard a familiar voice. 

“Are you...okay?” 

Quickly, in a slight panicky haze, Yamaguchi looked up, his eyes widening as he noticed that Tsukishima was leaning over him slightly, staring down at him with a perplexed look on his face. Subconsciously, he pressed his back further up against the apartment door, swallowing. 

“U-um,” he stuttered out, trying to get his brain to catch up and process the situation. “I’m fine.” He choked out, feeling taxed by the two simple words. As he blinked up, he let himself fall into Tsukishima’s soft gaze, and he noticed that there were little flecks of brown in his eyes. They reminded him of two gorgeous pieces of amber, fossilized sap that reflected age and the reason that they’d been hardened in the first place. 

“Then why are you sitting out here?” Tsukishima questioned, his eyebrows pulling together as he noticed how much Yamaguchi was shivering. He felt a pang in his heart, which was something that was quickly becoming commonplace whenever he looked at Yamaguchi and realized how tired he appeared, or noticed how he always seemed to be slouching down on himself, as if he was trying to disappear. 

“I locked myself out of my apartment. I---I’m waiting for the matimence man to come help me…” Yamaguchi trailed off, feeling a little pathetic in Tsukishima’s strong, steely presence. Once more, Yamaguchi shivered. He tried to curl in on himself further, tried to shrink under Tsukishima’s eyes, but he couldn’t. Tsukishima seemed to track his every movement as though he was prey. 

“You seem cold.” Tsukishima stated flatly. 

Yamaguchi laughed, probably a little too forcefully. “Yeah, I sort of am.” 

Tsukishima paused, leaning back. He cleared his throat, an almost apprehensive expression crossing his features. “Well, you’re always welcome to wait in my apartment. I could make you a cup of tea to warm you up.” He suggested, looking a little bit unsure of himself. 

Yamaguchi’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he felt his cheeks flush slightly. “Oh! You don’t have to!”    
  


“You’re shivering,” Tsukishima pointed out.

“Right. But---” Yamaguchi cut himself off, looking down at his hands. He pressed his nail into the cuticle on his index finger then let out a sigh, thinking back to the conversation that he had with his therapist. “Okay.” He said finally, glancing back up. At the soft expression on Tsukishima’s face, his heart swelled and then skipped a few beats. When did  _ that  _ get there? 

An almost smile curled its way onto Tsukishima’s lips, and he watched as Yamaguchi stood up before he turned and walked over to his apartment door, unlocking it swiftly. He swung the door open and Yamaguchi trailed into the apartment behind him, immediately reveling at the warmth that it provided. 

“It’s so  _ warm _ in here!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, feeling himself relax as he shut the door behind him, trapping the heated air inside

“Yeah,” Tsukishima said, setting his bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. He threw Yamaguchi a glance, quirking an eyebrow. “Tea?” 

“Oh! You don’t have to.”    
  
Tsukishima shrugged. “But I want to.” He set Kiyoshi’s carrier down on the floor for a moment while he unstrapped the baby from it, pulling him up into his arms. 

Yamaguchi felt himself flush at those words, and he stared over at Tsukishima for a beat too long, trying to not swoon over him. He sort of wanted to beat the thoughts from his head; he couldn’t be thinking these things about a man with a newborn  _ baby _ . Romance was probably the last thing on Tsukishima’s mind. 

But…

But still, Yamaguchi couldn’t help it. After all, Tsukishima was undeniably handsome. He was all sharp edges and pale skin. His eyes were warm, yet firm and guarded, and Yamaguchi kind of wanted to sink into them. He was  _ way  _ out of Yamaguchi’s league, anyway (if Yamaguchi even  _ had  _ a league...he sort of thought himself to be the bottom of the barrel), but still, he felt himself pine a bit. He found that something cold and dead within him was beginning to twitch to life, if only a little. 

“Okay,” Yamaguchi replied, his mouth feeling a little dry. “I can hold Kiyoshi for you,” he said quickly, the words coming out in an almost jumbled rush. He felt bad for imposing on Tsukishima, and he wanted to help him out in any way that he could, but he realized all too belatedly just how weird that offer might seem. This, coupled with the seemingly blank look that Tsukishima shot him made him back up a few paces and sputter out a few incoherent sounds. “If you want, that is! You seem to have your hands full, so…” 

“Sure,” Tsukishima said after a moment. He stared at Yamaguchi until the smaller man came closer, and then shifted Kiyoshi into his arms before he turned back around and began preparing the tea. 

Yamaguchi bounced Kiyoshi up and down a little, watching as hazy amusement flashed in the baby’s eyes. “Thank you, Tsukishima. Really.” 

“It’s no problem.” Tsukishima mumbled, then he paused. “Did you have a good time with your friends?” 

“Oh!” Yamaguchi’s mouth fell open. He had forgotten about his lie, and now and was going to have to muddle through it further. “It was...nice.” 

“Nice?” Tsukishima repeated, bringing a pot of water to a boil. 

“Yeah. How was the supermarket?” Yamaguchi asked, hoping that the conversation would quickly fall into something more natural and less choppy. 

“Good. I bought a piece of strawberry shortcake, and I’m excited about that, so…” Tsukishima turned, “Any milk or sugar in your tea?”    
  
“Oh, no,” Yamaguchi shook his head. “None for me.” He smiled politely. 

Tsukishima nodded, obliging with his request. Once Yamaguchi’s tea was ready, Tsukishima took Kiyoshi and handed him the cup, warning him that it was hot. Immediately, Yamaguchi took a sip, the liquid scalding his tongue. He suppressed a wince, focusing on the warmth that flooded his stomach instead of the pain in his mouth. 

“Thanks,” Yamaguchi said, looking down at the pale green liquid in the cup. “I hate the cold, and the heater in my apartment is broken. Fall and winter are so stupid,” he rambled. “Except for Christmas. I do like Christmas.” Quickly, he took another sip of tea, trying to shut himself up. More heated pain bloomed on his tongue, stinging the roof of his mouth. 

“You celebrate Christmas?” Tsukishima asked, shushing Kiyoshi as the baby let out a few displeased noises. 

“Yeah!” Yamaguchi’s eyes lit up at the mention of the holiday, and he pushed himself up onto the balls of his feet, gripping the cup with both of its hands. “You don’t?” 

Tsukishima shrugged, then shook his head. “Never have. Doubt I ever will.” 

“Oh! But it’s so magical! You get to put up a big, fancy Christmas tree and then decorate it! And you get to eat lots of yummy food, and exchange gifts in front of a nice, warm fire!” Yamaguchi listed, enthused, his expression shining with excitement. After a moment, he tried to put a lid on his eagerness. 

“Oh, really?” Tsukishima said, and if he were talking to anyone else, the words would’ve come out condescending. However, now, standing in front of Yamaguchi who was glowing with passion, amusement was tinting his tone. 

“Yeah…” Yamaguchi trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. “Maybe you could celebrate it this year,” he suggested sheepishly. “Maybe Kiyoshi will like it.” 

“Kiyoshi will barely be a month old at that point,” Tsukishima stated in a matter of fact manner. 

“Yeah, but,” Yamaguchi huffed and pouted a little. “Maybe  _ you’ll  _ like it.” He tried, and Tsukishima looked like he was actually considering this. 

“Maybe.” He said, looking at Yamaguchi in a way that the younger couldn’t decipher. 

Yamaguchi took a sip of his tea, this one more tentative. He glanced up at Tsukishima through his eyelashes, then swallowed the liquid. “Maybe we could go Christmas shopping together.” Yamaguchi suggested, his voice a little nervous. “You could get presents for your friends.”    
  
“Presents for my friends…?”    
  
“Yeah---er---no! Not if you don’t want to!” Yamaguchi stuttered, jerking backwards slightly. The tea, still hot as ever, sloshed over the rim of the cup, splashing onto his hand. He hissed out in pain, flinching as anxiety rose within him. He felt as though if he made one more wrong move, he’d be toppling over, falling to the ground with an ache splitting through the side of his head. Vaguely, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist. 

“Are you alright?” Tsukishima took a step forward, his eyes falling to Yamaguchi’s scorched skin. An angry patch of red was already beginning to form. 

“Fine! I’m fine--- _ sorry, _ ” Yamaguchi exhaled, deflating a little. His chest was aching with emotion and he kind of wanted to fall into the company of Noya and Tanaka. They were so easy to be in the presence of, and he could never embarrass himself around them.  _ Tsukishima,  _ however. Well, he was doing a fine job of embarrassing himself in front of  _ him.  _

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima reached out, wanting to graze his fingers over Yamaguchi’s tender skin. He retracted his hand, though, noticing the borderline frightened look that had caught hold of Yamaguchi’s features. “I’d like that. To go shopping with you.”   
  
“You would---” Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, and then he stiffened as he heard a yell from the hallway. 

“Yamaguchi!” a deep voice bellowed. It was the matimence man. 

“Shit,” Yamaguchi breathed, then immediately felt bad for cursing in front of Kiyoshi. Tsukishima didn’t seem to mind, though. “I better,” he jabbed a thumb backwards towards the door, and Tsukishima nodded, taking the mug from Yamaguchi’s hand gently. “Thank you.” Yamaguchi said for the seemingly umpteenth time. 

“It was no problem,” Tsukishima assured, and he watched as Yamaguchi left his apartment, speed walking out anxiously. He felt something warm settle deep inside of him as Yamaguchi shut the door behind him, the noise as he did so incredibly soft. 

-

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened as Noya bounded over to him, his movements clumsy and riddled with an inebriated haze. Noya threw his arms around him, letting out a gleeful noise as he grinned. Looking over Noya’s shoulder (which wasn’t hard, considering how short he was), Yamaguchi saw Tanaka and Asahi curled up on the couch. Tanaka looked half asleep, but Asahi was as lucid as ever considering that he didn’t drink.

“Yamayama-kun!” he squealed, his voice high and sweet. 

Yamaguchi stumbled backwards a little, letting out a slight laugh at Noya’s antics. He hugged his friend back, then looked back over at Asahi. “Are you babysitting him for tonight?” 

Asahi nodded, looking a little tired and worn. Yamaguchi empathized with him. Lately it seemed that no matter how much sleep he seemed to get, he always found himself to be exhausted. 

“Babysitting!?” Noya shrieked, squeezing Yamaguchi tighter. He threw a betrayed look over at Asahi, scoffing a little. “I don’t need a babysitter!” he told Yamaguchi resolutely. 

“Right,” Yamaguchi said, patting Noya on the head. 

Noya pulled away from him, an inebriated smile shining on his face as he tugged Yamaguchi over to the couch that Asahi and Tanaka were curled up on. A movie was playing on the TV before them, flashing blue, pale light into the room. Yamaguchi felt himself relax as Noya handed him a beer. 

As he sat down, Yamaguchi twisted the cap from it, feeling the metal ridges jab at the skin of his hand in an unpleasant manner. Quickly, he washed the feeling down with a swig of beer, blinking as Noya squished himself into place between himself and Asahi. 

“I’m so glad my Yamayama-kun is here!” Noya exclaimed, cuddling into Yamaguchi’s side, a pleasant smile curled on his face. His eyes were soft with intoxication and he let out a little yawn, making a content noise. 

Yamaguchi tossed an arm around Noya, taking another sip from his beer. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” He replied honestly. He always loved hanging out with Noya and Tanaka, even if Noya was a little more than tipsy and Tanaka was asleep. Asahi was an added bonus, too. It quelled the anxiety and bad feelings that seemed to constantly be swelling within him; offered him some comfort and familiarity in the midst of something dark and lonely. 

Asahi glanced over at Yamaguchi, tucking a strand of long hair behind his ear. “How’re you holding up?” he questioned softly, offering Yamaguchi a gentle look, as though he was afraid of setting the other off. 

_ He knows,  _ Yamaguchi thought vaguely, feeling a little embarrassed.  _ He knows about the panic attacks. Noya probably told him.  _

“Um,” Yamaguchi said lamely. Hastily, he lifted the beer bottle to his lips, downing a bit of it. The taste was mostly unpleasant and it burnt at his throat a little but the warmth that settled within him was worth it. He felt said warmth stretch through his veins and play at his fingertips, and then finally he felt that he could reply to Asahi. The only word that came out of his mouth was, “Fine.” 

-

Yamaguchi leaned over Noya’s lap, laughing as he squeezed his eyes shut. Five beers later and he was feeling good. The alcohol within him was sloshing around warmly in his belly, and he liked the heat that it brought along. It was as though it was melting away all the icy thoughts and feelings that seemed to thrive within Yamaguchi. 

Both Tanaka and Asahi had retreated to their respective bedrooms (Asahi’s “respective bedroom” being Noya’s room), leaving Noya and Yamaguchi to their own devices. This could be dangerous at times, but now the two were mostly subdued. 

“So,” Yamaguchi began, waving a hand around, his wrist going limp. “I met this  _ guy. _ ” 

Noya beamed, his mouth falling open as he let out a loud, excited noise. “Oh my  _ god,  _ Tadashi! Get  _ some _ !” 

A laugh burst out of Yamaguchi’s mouth and he lurched forward with the force of it, the open beer in his hand spilling over the edge of the nozzle. He tried to push himself up completely but failed, his limbs proving to be useless. After laying back down on Noya’s lap, he clarified. 

“No,” Yamaguchi said, grinning. “It’s not like that---” 

“But you wish it was!” Noya inserted, a giggle bubbling from his throat. 

“ _ No! _ ” Yamaguchi exclaimed in disagreement. After a moment, he settled down. “But he’s nice. I was locked out of my apartment today and he invited me into his for some tea to warm me up.” 

“Oh!” Noya’s features softened. “Aw.” 

Yamaguchi blinked up at his friend, reveling in the feeling of him brushing his fingers through his dyed hair. “Mm,” he hummed out in pleasure as Noya’s fingernails scraped gently against his scalp. He let his eyes fall closed as he continued. “His name’s Tsukishima, and he has pretty hair, and pretty eyes and---” Yamaguchi let out a long sigh. “The cutest baby I’ve ever  _ seen.”  _

“He’s got a baby?” Noya barked out a laugh, tugging on a few strands of Yamaguchi’s hair. “Swoon,” he said sarcastically. 

“No, it’s---” Yamaguchi flicked his eyes open, staring up into Noya’s dark ones. “It’s kind of endearing. He has no idea what he’s doing.”    
  
“Even  _ better _ ,” Noya deadpanned, twisting a chunk of Yamaguchi’s hair around his finger. 

“Shut  _ up,  _ Noya!” Yamaguchi flailed a little, his eyebrows pulling together in faux aggravation. Noya only laughed in response and Yamaguchi simply rolled his eyes before continuing, his voice sobering a little. “My therapist wants me to focus on him.”    
  
Noya quirked a questioning eyebrow. 

“She wants me to focus on making a new friend instead of...Ikeda.” Yamaguchi admitted, hesitating towards the end of the sentence. 

Noya’s fingers tightened in Yamaguchi’s hair causing the latter to wince momentarily. “Don’t even say that bastard’s name, Tadashi. Don’t even---” 

“Noya,” Yamaguchi sighed, feeling a pang in his heart, the buzz of the alcohol beginning to wear off in a superficial way. “I asked him if he’d like to go Christmas shopping with me.” He continued quickly. 

Within seconds, the fire that had been lit within Noya was put out. “Aw,” he replied softly. “Is he going to?”    
  
Yamaguchi tried to shrug, but it was hard to do so with his back against Noya’s thighs. “I’m not sure. He said he’d like to but…” 

“Well, you’ve just gotta bug him ‘till he gives in! That’s what I did with you, and look at us now!” Noya grinned broadly, pulling some hair back from Yamaguchi’s forehead. 

Yamaguchi smiled up at him, his heart feeling full. He reached for Noya’s hand, stopping him from dragging his fingers through his hair further despite how fond he was of the feeling. “Look at us now,” he repeated, the words soft on his tongue. 


	6. Finding Soft Solace in You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii, this is up v late but im tryng LOL

As Tsukishima opened his eyes, he noticed that the world was bright around him in the odd way that only fall mornings could be. There was a dry sort of light that was pouring in through the window of his bedroom, and if he angled himself on his futon correctly he could see the grey clouds that were puffed up in the sky, hanging, threatening rain or maybe a flurry of slushy snow. 

Tsukishima didn’t have much time to observe his surroundings, though, as he had promised Sugawara that he wouldn’t be late and his phone told him that it was pushing nine o’clock. 

With pins and needles numbing and pricking his feet, Tsukishima grabbed his glasses, pushed them onto his face, and stood up, not sparing even a moment to stretch and yawn. He needed a shower, needed to pick out an outfit that Suga wouldn’t judge him for wearing to “brunch,” and he then, after all of that, he needed to mentally prepare for meeting up with Suga. 

He’d never really admit it to anyone, but he loved Suga. He had helped him at his lowest points, been kind to him when Tsukishima hadn’t even had the capacity to be kind to himself. Sugawara had been there for him through and through, he was hands down Tsukishima’s favourite person ( _ besides Kiyoshi _ , Tsukishima thought quickly, feeling guilt squeeze at his stomach). 

This fondness was the exact reason that he found himself stumbling over to his dresser, exhaustion seeping into his bones and he dug through his ratty clothes to try and find something suitable to wear. Across from him, Kiyoshi was stirring in his crib, so hastily Tsukishima grabbed the first outfit that he saw, bundled it up in his hand, and then swooped over to pick Kiyoshi up, soothing him in a low, sleep riddled voice. 

“Good morning,” he greeted the baby absentmindedly as he tossed his clothes onto the top of the dresser. They sat in a crumpled, wrinkled lump, and it was only then that he realized  _ what  _ exactly he had chosen: A navy blue button up and a pair of dark grey jeans. 

_ Not bad,  _ he realized,  _ though a little inappropriate for the weather.  _

The thought lingered in his mind for a moment before Kiyoshi let out a little squeak, signaling that he was already ready for breakfast. 

“Alright, alright,” Tsukishima mumbled, adjusting his glasses with his pointer finger. He let a yawn rack through his body before he padded into the kitchen, grabbing a formula filled bottle from the fridge. Balancing Kiyoshi on his hip, Tsukishima turned the sink on, waiting for the water to heat up before he ran the bottle under it until it was at room temperature. He flicked his eyes over to the clock that flashed in digital green numbers on the microwave. 

_ 9:16 am _

Twenty minutes. He had twenty minutes to get both he and Kiyoshi together, which was not an easy feat, especially considering the fact that he was half asleep. Despite his severe fatigue, he managed to make himself look like a functioning human being and tuck Kiyoshi into his carrier, only running a few minutes behind. Before leaving his apartment, he pulled a beige cable knit sweater over his button up and stuffed his phone and wallet into his pocket. 

The cafe was about a ten minute walk from the apartment complex, so Tsukishima quickly shot Suga a text telling him that he was running a few minutes late, to which he received a snarky reply that he found himself rolling his eyes at. 

Before heading out of the building, Tsukishima tucked Kiyoshi into his blanket further, making sure that the biting autumn air wouldn’t nip at his fragile skin. Once satisfied with his handy work, he headed out, walking down the sidewalk in large strides, pushing past people as he held the baby carrier close to him. 

A cool breeze rustled its way through the earth, shaking a chill through everyone on the street, pushing clouds along, and Tsukishima found his mind drifting off to Yamaguchi. When Kiyoshi had started up last night, Yamaguchi hadn’t been there knocking on his apartment door, ready to help. And Tsukishima certainly wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he felt a slight disappointment sting within him at that fact. 

He had gotten so used to seeing Yamaguchi every night, so used to reveling in the freckles on his face, his raspy, dry laugh, and his awkward demeanor. And so often, too often, perhaps, he found his mind wandering back to forest green hair, shining brown eyes, and the cute little way that Yamaguchi’s face scrunched up when he was happy--- _ wait.  _

Tsukishima stopped dead in his tracks, swallowing dryly. Had he just called Yamaguchi, who was  _ barely  _ an acquaintance,  _ cute?  _

Harshly, someone pushed passed Tsukishima, causing him to stumble backwards a little bit. Quickly, he got his feet moving again, letting the thought flutter from his mind. He chose to ignore what had just happened, chose to push Yamaguchi from his mind and just focus on Suga and the fact that his phone was buzzing rapidly in his back pocket. 

Tsukishima sped up his pace, dodging between people, making sure that none of them jostled Kiyoshi in his carrier. Soon, the cafe came into view. It was small and trendy, tucked between two alleyways. The foundation was made of brick, and the sign that had its name on it hung down, swirly letters burnt into wood. 

_ Karasuno Cafe  _

Tsukishima had never been there before, but Sugawara always raved about how incredible it was. Apparently, their coffee was to die for, and their baked goods could end wars that had been raging on for years. This had never been enough to get Tsukishima to go, despite his inclination towards all things sweet, but now he was here, eyeing the place as though it had some sort of ulterior motive. As though he would get drowned in the crowd and throngs of people that were packed inside---which he actually very well might. 

Mentally, Tsukishima cursed Suga for scheduling their meetup during the morning rush before he found himself opening the glass door that led into the cafe. He stepped inside, letting a plethora of smells, all pleasant, hit him. He inhaled deeply, an automatic response of his body, trying to enjoy all of the good that this moment had to offer. 

Besides going to the grocery store, and out once to a little family owned cafe for a pastry, Tsukishima hadn’t really been out of his apartment since he had brought Kiyoshi home, so it was nice to get out. Nice to be a part of the world once more, even  _ if  _ exhaustion was drilling into him.

The welcome moment was cut short, unfortunately, as Tsukishima felt someone ram into his back, causing him to stumble forward. Without hesitation, he spun around, fixing the culprit with a sharp look before his features softened slightly. 

The man who had pushed into him was short and intense looking. He had dark, spiky hair with a bleached patch in the front. This isn’t what caught Tsukishima’s attention, though.  _ Behind _ him was a familiar face. Was familiar hair, familiar eyes, and familiar  _ freckles.  _

“Noya, you can’t just  _ do  _ that.” Yamaguchi scolded frantically, looking a little worn in the way that he always seemed to be. “I’m sorry, he just---” he began apologizing, but quickly cut himself off as he made eye contact with Tsukishima. “Tsukki---” 

“Tsukishima!” 

Tsukishima whipped his head to the side, seeing Sugawara waving over at him eagerly as he walked forward. A bright grin was spread across his face, and, looking past him, Tsukishima could see the table that he had come from where Daichi was sitting. He frowned. 

“You’re finally here!” Sugawara beamed, then flicked his eyes over to who Tsukishima was sharing his proximity with, his eyes widening as he did so. “ _ Nishinoya _ !?” Suga exclaimed, bouncing forward towards the short man who had bumped into Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima blinked, feeling like the day was giving him whiplash. 

“ _ Suga!?  _ What are you doing here!?” The short one--- _ Noya _ , Tsukishima corrected himself mentally---asked eagerly, smiling widely, his eyes shining. Behind him, Yamaguchi looked like he was trying to catch up, too. 

“Tsukishima and I are grabbing a bite to eat! Why don’t you join us?” Suga explained, gesturing wildly. 

“Is that Daichi back there?” Noya’s smile widened and he was bouncing eagerly on the balls of his toes, looking like he could barely contain his excitement, like it was spilling out of him. 

“Yeah! Man, he’ll be so excited to see you!” 

Tsukishima began to tune the two own, choosing to look down at a stray strand of yarn that had been pulled from his sweater, or how his hands were gripping Kiyoshi’s carrier probably too tight. He zoned out for a few minutes, finding solace in the quiet of his mind before Suga shoved him abruptly, bringing him back to reality. 

Tsukishima looked up, tilting his head as he eyed Yamaguchi, who was hastily explaining that, no, he and Noya did  _ not  _ have to join them, that they would certainly be an intrusion. Sugawara was having none of this, though. 

“Nonsense!” he piped out. “Tsukishima won’t mind, and neither will Dai.” 

Yamaguchi flicked his eyes over to Tsukishima, and the taller man held his gaze for a moment. His lips curled up into a watery smile before he glanced back at Sugawara, looking as though he was brimming with anxiety. “O-okay, then. If you insist.” 

-

Tsukishima stared down at his coffee, letting his hands wrap around the warm paper cup. The heated sensation spread throughout his palms as he let out a breath. Next to him, on his right, sat Yamaguchi, and on the left, propped up on a wooden chair, sat Kiyoshi in his carrier. Across from Tsukishima was Suga, and next to him, Daichi, and next to  _ him,  _ Noya. 

Really, it was a little overwhelming. Here Tsukishima was, just expecting Sugawara, and then Daichi had been there. And on top of that, Yamaguchi and this  _ Noya  _ guy, who quite frankly, Tsukishima was a little suspicious of. And well, he supposed that he didn’t quite mind  _ Yamaguchi’s  _ presence but…

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s drowsy voice cut into Tsukishima’s thoughts, causing the blonde to shoot his gaze over to him. An apologetic look hung on his features and he ducked his head, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Noya and I had a late night last night, so we were just grabbing some coffee before heading off. We won’t stay for long if you don’t want.” 

“Oh,” Tsukishima felt heat rise to his cheeks at the nickname. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips quickly and took a sip, feeling it burn his mouth and scald his throat. He suppressed a cough as tears pricked his eyes, then finally, collected himself. “It’s---it’s fine, Yamaguchi, really.” 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Yamaguchi’s lips, and Tsukishima found himself staring, marveling at the little expression. Fixating on the warm hue of his skin and the gentle spread of his freckles.

“Okay,” Yamaguchi said quietly, the smile still gracing his lips. He lowered his head, continuing to fiddle with his fingers, unsure of what to do or say. 

Just as the conversation fell flat, and as the two began to recede into themselves, Suga leaned forward, cupping his face in his hands as a mischievous smile stretched across his face. His brown eyes glinted chaotically and he flicked them over to Tsukishima, giving him a once over in the face of his disapproving stare before he gazed over at Yamaguchi, the smile widening. 

“Yamaguchi, right?” Suga questioned sweetly before taking a sip of his frappuccino, the whipped cream that sat on top of the coffee crammed up against the plastic lid, and the whole drink drenched in chocolate syrup. 

Yamaguchi shifted in his seat, looking a little surprised. The expression melted away quickly, ease taking its place. “Yeah.” He replied. 

“So how do you know Noya, then?” 

“Oh!” Yamaguchi’s face brightened and he held back a laugh, smiling. “We actually met in college---my freshman year.” 

Suga’s eyebrows rose to his forehead and he grinned, imagining all the absurdity that must’ve come along with college Noya. “ _ Really _ ? What was he like?” 

“Honestly, pretty much the same.” Yamaguchi chuckled a little, his eyes scrunching up in a perfectly adorable way. “He used to get me into trouble a lot, though. Drag me to parties and---” Quickly, abruptly, the man cut himself off, stuttering a bit. He blinked through an awkward pause before clearing his throat and letting out a breath. “ _ Anyways.”  _

“So then, are you still in school?” Suga questioned, recovering from the dip in conversation. 

Yamaguchi nodded, the movement a little too forceful. “Yeah, and I work part time at the daycare down the street.” 

Momentarily, Suga flicked his eyes over to Tsukishima, who was watching Yamaguchi intently, his expression shifting at Yamaguchi’s every word. A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Y’know, Tsukishima works with me at the Natural History Museum.” 

Light spread its way across Yamaguchi’s face and, instantly, he sat up straighter in his street, casting an excited look Tsukishima’s way. “You do!? That’s so  _ cool! _ ”

“He didn’t tell you?” Suga questioned, looking at Tsukishima pointedly, who, in response, rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“He never asked.” The blonde defended himself, the hardness of his eyes dissolving immediately as he met Yamaguchi’s own. “But yes,” he confirmed, “I do.” 

“Wow!” Yamaguchi beamed, clutching his coffee cup so hard that the cardboard of it began to bend and give under the pressure of his fingers. 

“He also can rattle off, like, a  _ shit  _ ton of dinosaur facts off of the top of his head.” Suga added, ignoring the heat that flashed on Tsukishima’s features. 

“Really, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi turned to him, clasping his hands together as he buzzed in his seat animatedly. 

“Um,” heat rose to Tsukishima’s face, painting his cheeks with a rosy colour. He glanced over to Suga, mentally cursing him for his meddling. “Yeah, I guess…”    
  
“Can you tell me one?” 

“Yeah,” Suga said teasingly as he leaned forward, his smirk growing, pushing up onto his cheeks. “Tell him one.” 

And if looks could kill, Suga would’ve dropped dead then and there, slumping over in his seat due to the force of Tsukishima’s glare. His eyes were sharpened blades, refined, glinting, and metallic. But the look wasn’t enough to cause him to lay off, and Yamaguchi was already hooked on what he wanted, so really, there wasn’t a way out. 

Tsukishima sighed, fidgeting with his glasses for a moment before he began lowly, “The lystrosaurus was one of the only survivors of the Great Dying.”

“Wow! So cool!” Yamaguchi gaped, looking as though Tsukishima had just hung the moon and stars. “Why didn’t you tell me that you could do that?”    


Tsukishima blinked, unable to comprehend how Yamaguchi was managing to be so awestruck by the incredibly lame thing that he had just done. “I mean, I don’t just go around  _ doing  _ that.” 

“Why not? You should!” 

“Yeah!” Suga chimed in, clearly enjoying this all far too much. “You  _ definitely  _ should.” 

“Suga,” Tsukishima growled in warning.

Quickly, Suga raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I  _ get  _ it. I’ll just leave you two alone.” He pouted, then quickly shoved himself into the conversation that Noya and Daichi were wrapped up in. 

-

Tsukishima watched Yamaguchi go, giving him a wave and a small smile tugging at his lips, his freckles falling into the crinkles of his face with the way that every expression he makes overtakes him in such a whole and genuine way. 

Once he was gone, Tsukishima turned to Kiyoshi, rocking his carrier back and forth while he avoided Suga’s intense gaze. 

“So,” Suga began, ignoring the disapproving stare that Daichi was giving him. “Yamaguchi, huh?” he asked, the question grating on Tsukishima painfully. 

Truly, Tsukishima knew that Suga meant well, but he was exhausting in a way that made the blonde man want to fall asleep for a couple months just to escape his incessant prying. 

“What’re you trying to get at?” Tsukishima questioned, his eyebrows pulling together as he lifted Kiyoshi from his carrier, adjusting his position so that he could cradle him in his arms. The baby made a couple of babbling noises, and in response, Tsukishima simply fixed him with a fond look before returning his gaze to Suga. 

“You know  _ exactly _ what I’m trying to get at!” Suga scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me,  _ Tsukki.”  _

Tsukishima glared, trying to put as much heat behind it as he could. “Don’t call me that.” 

“But Yamaguchi can?” Suga pressed, looking a little smug at how quickly he had backed Tsukishima into a corner. 

Quickly, Tsukishima sent Daichi an exasperated look, though he tried to keep it as even as possible; he couldn’t let Suga know that he was cracking. “Can’t you control him?” 

Daichi held his hand up, “Suga’s the one with all the power in this relationship,” he shrugged. 

Tsukishima scoffed; he knew that wasn’t true, but he supposed that Daichi just couldn’t bring himself to reign his boyfriend in right now. So, fine. He’d just have to fend for himself. 

“Oh, come on, Tsukishima! He’s  _ adorable, _ and he seemed to think your  _ extensive  _ and useless knowledge of random dinosaur facts was impressive, and that’s never worked on anyone before!” Suga continued, enthused. 

“Suga---” Tsukishima began, but he quickly cut himself off as Suga’s mouth fell open, more “encouraging” words. 

“Tsukishima,” the ash blonde said softly, his expression quickly changing, the harsh edges being carved away by a gentle emotion. “I’m being serious. He seems  _ really  _ nice, and he seems to  _ really  _ like you.” 

“Yeah but…”    
  
Suga eyed Tsukishima expectantly, deflating a little at how unsure his friend appeared, even in the ache of his genuine words. 

“Listen, Suga. I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet. And even if I  _ was _ , Yamaguchi could be totally straight, and totally not interested in dating someone with a newborn baby.”

Suga slumped down, falling forward at Tsukishima’s reason. Really, he was right, but… 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Tsukishima continued, frowning at the crestfallen look on Suga’s face. “But I think Yamaguchi just wants to be friends.” 


	7. This Feeling sits Heavy in my Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did it take me over a month to complete this??? yes,..,. is it good??? NO. OH WELL. 
> 
> come get yall crumbs lmaooo

Yamaguchi looked down at the mess that was spread out on the surface of the kitchen counter below him, his hands covered in a sticky and unfortunate concoction of batter. His face scrunched up in displeasure as he eyed the results of his efforts, a frown working its way onto his lips. 

He’d been at it for a good hour, stirring up a mixture of sugar and butter and flour, letting out little frustrated noises as he got further and further into the disaster that was his attempt at baking. And really, the idea was no good from the start, given Yamaguchi’s misadventures regarding anything that needed to be put in an oven. But he had figured that at some point in his adult life, his adversity to cooking and baking would dissipate and he would be able to function like a normal person. Clearly, this thought process was severely flawed. 

A groan escaped from Yamaguchi’s lips and he tossed his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his hands into fists, the batter squelching against his skin in a wholly unpleasant manner. 

Really, he reasoned with himself, this was all Noya, Hinata, and Tanaka’s fault.  _ Really,  _ he told himself, trying to keep the deprecating thoughts at bay, if they hadn’t been so  _ wonderfully  _ supportive of him when he was going through such a rough time then maybe the stupid idea to bake them cupcakes wouldn’t have popped into his head. But, well, they were incredible friends, always bending over backwards for him when need be. Giving him hugs when he needed someone close and leaving him be with his thoughts when he needed some space. And Yamaguchi, well, all he was was someone who couldn’t make a cupcake for the damn life of him. Truly tragic. 

_ Well,  _ the man thought dimly,  _ mom always says  _ If you don’t succeed, try, try again,  _ so…  _ Looking down at his hands, he made his way to the kitchen sink, eager to rinse the sticky batter away with warm water and dish soap. Once his hands were clean, he turned to gaze at his work area in disdain. 

Yamaguchi had never been a particularly messy person, so really, he had never fathomed that he could create such chaos. But there it all was...flour, spilled all across the counters, a plethora of bowls, whisks, spoons, and numerous egg shells, too, because the first few that he had cracked had gone just about everywhere  _ except  _ the bowl. 

_ Eggs... _ Yamaguchi thought for a moment before his eyes widened as he stared down at the cardboard carton that sat on his counter next to a stack of ugly, cracked shells. The carton was empty. 

“ _ Shit, _ ” he breathed, little droplets of water growing fat and heavy with mass before they fell from the tips of his fingers, splattering onto the floor. “I can’t believe I used them all!” the man exclaimed, rushing over to examine the carton before his eyes fell onto the shells. He glared at them, internally cursing how inept he was before a solution rushed into his mind. A solution that was probably bad, probably overstepping boundaries, but that Yamaguchi was favouring over running to the store or ditching the cupcakes altogether. 

By the time he could think of why he probably shouldn’t knock on Tsukishima’s door and beg for an egg or two, he was already on his way over, swinging the door open a little too wide in the midst of his heated emotions. 

Quickly, in his sock clad feet, he padded over to Tsukishima’s apartment, knocking firmly on the door before regretting it and calling out a meek “sorry!” to fix his mistake. Within seconds, he heard the doorknob turn and watched as the wooden door creaked open, the high pitched noise squealing in his ears for a moment. 

“Why are you apologizing?” was the first thing that Tsukishima said to him, and he did so with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly amused by Yamaguchi’s behavior. 

In response, Yamaguchi flushed, taking a few steps back. At this moment, he became acutely aware of the fact that he was standing in front of Tsukishima with no shoes on, his hands damp, his shirt covered in flour, and a flush painting his cheeks with warmth. 

_ Okay,  _ he let out a little breath,  _ maybe I should’ve thought this through a little more.  _

“Um,” Yamaguchi stammered, straightening his posture to an uncomfortable degree as his heart began to thud in his chest---and why was it doing  _ that _ ? Tsukishima was just Yamaguchi’s neighbor. His neighbor who was looking at him expectantly, mirth glinting in his teasing eyes in a way that made Yamaguchi want to melt. “Where’s Kiyoshi?” the shorter man blurted out after a moment, the words falling from his mouth, coming from out of the blue. 

“In his crib,” Tsukishima’s eyebrows rose to his forehead. “Is that what you came to ask?” 

“No--er, eggs!”

“Eggs?” Tsukishima questioned, looking more and more amused with each second that passed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, the expression on his face causing the blush on Yamaguchi’s cheeks to deepen, leaving him severely flustered. 

“I need eggs,” Yamaguchi clarified quickly, “for baking. If you have any.” 

“Ah,” Tsukishima lifted a finger to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He smirked, “Is that what you were cursing about?” 

In embarrassment, Yamaguchi’s face fell. With wide eyes, he sputtered, grappling with the awkward situation that he had tossed himself into. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled, glancing down at his feet. In his socks, he wiggled his toes, bringing his eyebrows together. “It’s for something really important, but I’m no good at baking so I kept messing up, and I ran out of eggs.” 

Tsukishima’s features softened slightly and the smirk on his lips melted into a gentle smile. “I can help you out if you’d like,” he offered. 

Yamaguchi’s head whipped up in surprise, his mouth falling open. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Then, he swallowed and nodded quickly, looking at Tsukishima as though he had hung the moon and stars for him. “Please,” he breathed.

-

Every so often, Yamaguchi’s eyes would drift over to Tsukishima, who was looking down at the recipe that Yamaguchi had scribbled out on a piece of notebook paper, the words scrawled out in crude, juvenile lines. Kiyoshi was strapped to his chest with a black carrier, his chubby little arms reaching up for Tsukishima’s glasses, then his hair, his fingers outstretched to jab at his daddy’s lips.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed down at Kiyoshi and he craned his neck forward a little, mumbling something inaudible under his breath. In reaction, Yamaguchi let out a badly stifled laugh, eyes widening when Tsukishima looked over at him in accusation. 

“Are you laughing at my misery?” 

“No,” Yamaguchi squeaked. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

“Why am I even helping you?” 

Leaning back against the fridge, Yamaguchi crossed his arms, pressing his index finger against a dot of pigment on his skin. “Because you feel bad for me?” he tried, a smile curling at his lips. 

“Ah,” Tsukishima patted Kiyoshi’s head, twisting a fine strand of hair on the pad of his fingers. “You’re right. I didn’t even know it was possible for someone to mess up  _ cupcakes  _ this bad.” 

With humour bursting inside of his chest and his lips blooming into something outstretched, Yamaguchi gasped. “That was so  _ mean! _ ” he squealed. “You’re  _ mean,  _ Tsukki!” 

For a moment, Tsukishima kept his eyes trained on the recipe, then he looked over at Yamaguchi, something flashing in his gaze, softening the edges of his irises and lips. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gentle, “I guess I am.” 

Involuntarily, Yamaguchi’s mouth fell open slightly, and his heart flipped in his chest before ramming against his ribcage as heat flooded his cheeks, backlighting his skin. 

Before Yamaguchi could respond, Tsukishima cut back in. “So, you weren’t following the recipe exactly, were you?”   
“W-well,” the shorter man stumbled over his words, his tongue feeling too big and awkward in his mouth, his skin burning. “N-not exactly, no. But I thought it would turn out okay.” 

“When it comes to baking, you have to follow the recipe to a T. Baked goods are very finicky.”   
  
“Wah,” Yamaguchi gaped. “Wow, Tsukki! You’re so knowledgeable.” He rushed to Tsukishima’s side, watching carefully as his friend scooped a measuring cup into the bag of flour and then leveled it off with a knife. With precision, he repeated this step a few more times before explaining to Yamaguchi that first, you needed to mix all of the dry ingredients together thoroughly before you added anything like eggs, milk, or butter. 

“It looks like you were also using baking soda instead of baking  _ powder. _ ” Tsukishima pointed out, causing Yamaguchi’s brows to pull together. 

“What’s the difference…?” 

Lightly, Tsukishima chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he did so, and Yamaguchi watched as stars began to spin in his eyes and his heart began to twitch uncontrollably in a way that he hadn’t experienced in  _ so long _ . The feeling was still familiar, though. Still identifiable, even with his mind hazed and foggy due to the wonders of Tsukishima Kei. 

_ Shit,  _ Yamaguchi thought, and instinctively, his hand came up to cradle his right wrist, an ache spreading throughout it, digging into the bone and ligaments, cementing every bad thing that had ever come about because he had let himself succumb to  _ that  _ feeling. 

“Well, there’s a big difference,” Tsukishima explained, leveling off another scoop of something as he bounced his knees, rattling a smile onto Kiyoshi’s face. After a moment of silence, Tsukishima cast a glance Yamaguchi’s way, taking in how his expression had grown slightly distant, how his fingers were curling up around his wrist as though it were causing him pain. “Are you alright?” he set the measuring cup that he was holding down, the metal clanking against the counter in an abrupt fashion. 

“What?” Yamaguchi asked, blinking a few times as the expression on his face grew sharper with focus. 

“Are you al _ right _ ?” Tsukishima repeated, worry bleeding into his tone. “For a second there you looked like you had hurt yourself.”   


“Oh!” Yamaguchi piped up, wondering if it was at all possible that he could stop embarrassing himself so severely in front of Tsukishima. “I-I’m fine! Just, uh, listening to your expert baking advice.” 

“Ah, I see, you think flattery will work on me.” 

“It won’t?” Yamaguchi raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Not even coming from me?” 

“Well,” a sigh slipped out from between Tsukishima’s lips, the look on his face was gentle and fond, “Okay, maybe  _ this time.”  _ He paused, smiling a little, the worry that had been plaguing his expression melting away. “Why’re you even making cupcakes anyway?” 

At this question, Yamaguchi beamed, his eyes twinkling as he considered how excited Noya, Hinata, and Tanaka would be when he presented them with the baked goods that Tsukishima was helping him craft. “For my friends!”    
  
Tsukishima’s long fingers wrapped around a wooden spoon that was sitting idly on the counter. He picked it up, dipping it into the bowl of dry ingredients so that he could mix them thoroughly together. “Your friends, huh?” 

“Yeah!” Losing any amount of tension that had been hanging in his body, Yamaguchi began to roll forward onto the balls of his feet, his expression dipping into something easygoing and relaxed. “They’ve done so much for me lately, so I thought I should return the favor.” 

“Sweet,” Tsukishima mumbled, the edges of his lips quirking up. 

Immediately, Yamaguchi felt a fire light itself up beneath his skin. “W-what?” he stammered, trying his best to pretend that he didn’t see the adoring look that Tsukishima’s eyes seemed to be riddled with.

For a moment, a split, almost incomprehensible second, Tsukishima froze, seeming to have not known that he was voicing his thoughts aloud. “Oh,” he said briefly, then, turning to fix Yamaguchi with a solid look, he said, “You’re sweet,” as though it were the most plain, most clearly observable fact that there was. 

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi shrieked. “You can’t just  _ say _ things like that!”   


“Like what?” A lighthearted laugh bubbled up from Tsukishima’s lungs, and his shoulders rolled with the movement as he threw a few more ingredients into the bowl, glancing at Yamaguchi out of the corner of his eye in amusement. 

“Like---whatever,” Yamaguchi let out a breath, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself together. Inside of his chest, his heart was pounding and he was trying to keep his face from burning for the millionth time. And  _ god _ , Tsukishima  _ had  _ to know what he was doing. He  _ had  _ to know the effect that he had on Yamaguchi, with his stupid pretty eyes, his stupid blonde hair, and his stupid glasses that somehow made him look impossibly elegant. 

“You’re blushing,” the subject of Yamaguchi’s snowballing thoughts pointed out nonchalantly as he began to butter up a baking pan, leaning over Kiyoshi awkwardly so that he could press his fingers into the crevices of the metal. 

Both of Yamaguchi’s hands rose abruptly and clumsily to press to his reddening cheeks and his lips twisted with embarrassment and aggravation. “No I’m not!” He protested weakly, though both Tsukishima and him knew it was a lie. “Gah,” Yamaguchi let out a breath after a moment, pressing on his cheeks so that they were smushed up against the palms of his hands. “You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?” 

For a moment, Tsukishima looked thoughtful. He glanced up past his eyelashes and the rim of his glasses to stare at the dull white ceiling before he titled his head in Yamaguchi’s direction, smiling in a small and slight way. “Yeah, I think I do.”

By the end of the baking session, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were left with a batch of beautiful strawberry cupcakes. The cake itself was light, fluffy, and perfectly sweet, bound together with the eggs that Tsukishima had so generously donated to Yamaguchi’s cause. They were iced messily, however, a perfect juxtaposition to what lay under the thick vanilla buttercream that Yamaguchi had jumped in to help prepare. 

“They look...um,” Yamaguchi said, picking one up from the plate that he had placed them on to examine it. “Not great---but I’m sure they taste good!” 

“Try one, then,” Tsukishima suggested, watching Yamaguchi in the careful way that he tended to, his eyes tracking the smaller man’s every movement in an almost analytical way. 

“I don’t know, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s face tightened and dipped into something nervous. 

“Well, if you plan on giving them to people, you minus well taste test them.” 

“Bleh,” Yamaguchi scrunched his nose up. “Why are you always right.” 

This comment, inane as it was, pulled at gentle laugh from Tsukishima. One that was softer than all of the ones that had slipped out before. One that made him close his eyes; that made the air around him glow with an ethereal sort of light for a wistful split second. 

“I’m gifted, I guess,” Tsukishima replied, but Yamaguchi wasn’t quite listening, his brain too caught up with the sight that he had just been graced with. And okay, maybe he was being a  _ little  _ dramatic, but when had Tsukishima gotten  _ that  _ pretty. 

“Yeah whatever,” Yamaguchi grumbled after a moment, dipping forward to take a tentative bite of the cupcake. As soon as the sweet treat hit his taste buds, his eyes fluttered closed and he felt an involuntary moan rumble throughout the back of his throat. “It’s  _ so good!”  _ he exclaimed, mouth full of fluffy cake and rich icing. 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, trying to keep any fondness from seeping onto his face. “Don’t speak with your mouth full,” he scolded lightly. 

“Sorry, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi paused to swallow before he beamed. “I can’t wait to take them to my friends! They’re so good; try one!” 

Carefully, Tsukishima picked a cupcake up to examine it. It was frosted clumsily, the buttercream sloping down the cake at an awkward angle, slowly inching its way over the edge, but somehow it was endearing. After a moment, he took a bite, his eyes fluttering closed as he did so so that he could savour the taste.

“Good?” Yamaguchi asked, gripping the edge of the kitchen table enthusiastically. As Tsukishima nodded, his features softened. With his chin resting in the palm of his hand he smiled, eyes drifting down to Kiyoshi, who’s own were slowly drifting closed. “Thanks for helping me out. I know you’re probably really busy with Kiyoshi but it means a lot.” 

Tsukishima exhaled softly in amusement, setting his cupcake back down on the plate. “If anything, I should be thanking you. You’ve helped me out with Kiyoshi  _ so much _ …” he trailed off, glancing down at the floorboards as a light blush dusted his cheeks. “I pretty much only have you and Sugawara, so I’m grateful.” Tsukishima returned his gaze to Yamaguchi, flicking his eyes from the messy tufts of his hair to the curve of his lips to the constellations of his freckles. 

“Well,” Yamaguchi let out a soft breath, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. “Anytime you need me, Tsukki, I’ll be here for you.” And he could feel it coursing through his veins, thrumming against his ribcage, painting his cheeks with all the shades of a vibrant sunset; he was falling for Tsukishima. 

“Likewise.” 

-

The sun rose in the sky fiercely the next day, burning with the cozy warmth that only a bitter winter day could bring. Yamaguchi could feel the heat beaming in onto him through the window in his apartment, making him writhe in his pile of blankets until he awoke, a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.

Squinting up at the ceiling that hung over his head, ignited with splashes of shimmering gold, he felt panic rise in him quickly as the realization that he was late for class rammed into him abruptly. He scrambled out of his futon, pushing the mountain of blankets away as he sat up, his bones creaking with the speed of the movement. 

In a record fifteen minutes, Yamaguchi was stomping his shoes on and tying the laces, ready to bolt to class like his life depended on it. As he swung his apartment door open, his body urged him to speed down the hallway as fast as he could, but something made him pause. 

It was small and inane. A little scrap of notebook paper folded up and sitting on the floor in front of him, blank besides for his name written out in an graceful sort of handwriting that made him feel embarrassed of his own. 

Slowly, as though all the urgency that he had been carrying within the pit of his stomach had been drained out of him, he bent down to pick the piece of paper up, unfolding it carefully. 

_ If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. _

_ (555)-555-555 _

_ \- Tsukishima _

  
  


Yamaguchi would’ve been lying if he said that he hadn’t completely forgotten that he was running late, because after his eyes had scanned that note, the only thing rattling around his head was Tsukishima. 


End file.
